


A Question of Loyalty

by Marian_De_Haan



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-25 18:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21360373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marian_De_Haan/pseuds/Marian_De_Haan
Summary: With Avon and Vila recovering after the events in Power, Tarrant takes Dayna and Soolin for a test drive on Scorpio, with very strange and unpleasant consequences.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Published in The Chronicles #66. Reproduced here on the author's behalf and with the author's permission.
> 
> Illustrations by Andrew Williams, Telepic(1), Bernice Cuffe(1).

"Well," Dayna observed with brittle brightness, "at least we've got another ship." 

"Of sorts," commented Tarrant sourly. His heart ached at the memory of _Liberator_, that superior spacecraft, lost because of Avon's obstinacy. "Its a miracle this obsolete heap of corrugated parts is able to fly at all!" 

"I still think we should have left a message about us going on this test flight," Soolin said stubbornly.  
  
"There was no need, Tarrant argued. "With that concussion it'll be days before Avon will be up to some coherent thought." 

"At least he did the sensible thing and went to bed," Soolin remarked. "Rest is the only cure." 

Dayna's young dark features contracted with concern. "Maybe one of us should have stayed to keep an eye on him." 

"Vila is with him ," Tarrant reminded her.

"Oh yes," she scorned, "And a great support he'll be, drinking himself senseless on Dorian's wine!" 

"Exactly," stated Tarrant smugly. "With Avon asleep and Vila drunk, what's the point of leaving a message? Besides, we'll be back long before he'll wake up." 

Dayna shook her head, becoming increasingly unsure of the wisdom of this rash enterprise. When Tarrant had invited them for a quick test flight aboard _Scorpio_, to see what the old freighter was still capable of, it had seemed a good idea. But now she realised that it could just have been Tarrant's need for getting his own way. 

Tarrant had wanted to perform a test flight immediately after they had teleported to _Scorpio_ after Pella's attempt to steal the ship. Avon had been against it - being knocked on the head three times in one day, he sorely needed a rest. 

After their grueling confrontation with those murderous Hommiks and Seska they were all in need of rest, Vila had added, never being, in favour of dangerous enterprises. Soolin, still shocked from Dorian's betrayal and demise, had readily agreed and Dayna had backed them.  
  
So the young pilot had reluctantly landed the craft, only to lift off again the moment Avon had gone to bed and Vila disappeared in search of wine. 

"Anyway, Avon's past it," Tarrant said with callousness of youth. "Look at the mess he made of that trip to Terminal. _Liberator_ destroyed and Cally dead. He's getting too old for this job. It's a good thing we've got a base now. He can stay there and leave the action to his betters." 

"It does't seem likely he'll agree with you, does it?" inquired Soolin sceptically. 

"His opinion doesn't count." Tarrant told her. "He'll have to face up to the facts of life. I'm younger than him, sharper, faster, fitter, smarter, braver..."

"Quite," Dayna conceded dryly. "The only thing we need Avon for is getting us out of the messes you lead us into." 

"If you are such a genius," Soolin challenged the pilot, "why is it that you haven't noticed that we are veering off course?" 

"What?" Tarrant checked the flight indicator. "You're right." He addressed the onboard computer. "Slave, compensate." 

"I'm very sorry, sir," the machine grovelled blandly. "My humble powers seem to be insufficient to carry out your order. Please accept my profound apologies." 

"Shut up!" Tarrant snapped. "Give me manual." 

"With the utmost relief, sir." 

Brimming with self-confidence, Tarrant took over the controls. "Right, hold on." 

After a moment, Soolin informed him coldly: "We're still going the wrong way." 

"And our speed's increasing," Dayna announced. 

In vain Tarrant flicked switches and punched buttons on his console. "She's not responding." 

"Marvellous!" Dayna said through clenched teeth. "Next time you get a brilliant idea, Tarrant, don't invite me!" 

"I should have known better," Soolin reproached herself. "Never trust a man with a toothy smile." 

"What's the maximum speed of this hulk?" Dayna asked her. "I don't know - Dorian had the sense to never try reaching it!" 

A warning light flashed up on the console while a siren began to wail. 

"I think we're about to find out," Tarrant shouted over the din. 

"Well, DO something!" Dayna urged him. 

"I can't! We're trapped by — a kind of beam." Pushed back into his seat by the acceleration force, Tarrant fought to stay conscious. "That's it! We're caught in a traction beam." 

"From where?" Soolin gasped, also trapped in her seat. "There are no planets near." 

Tarrant tried to lean forward to read his console. With a groan he gave up. "I don't know. It must have enormous power to. . . reach. . .so. . .far. . . ." 

"Our young, sharp, fast, fit, clever, brave, handsome hero has passed out," Dayna observed bitterly. 

"If we survive this," Soolin vowed with cold anger, "I'll shoot him!" 

"Oh no," panted Dayna, gliding into unconsciousness. "That'll be... MY. . . pleasure!" 

Having lost consciousness too, Soolin was in no position to argue.

* * *

"I told you Tarrant wasn't to be trusted," Vila wailed agitated. "I warned you!" 

Avon slowly opened his eyes, trying to concentrate through his headache. The vision of Vila, swaying on his legs and waving a half empty wine bottle, was not something to improve his mood. 

"You're drunk, Vila." 

"I'm not." 

_Not enough to dull the memory of the loss of the _Liberator _and Cally's death. _

Seeing the pain of recollection pass involuntarily over Avon's face, Vila felt a tinge of guilt over waking him from what had clearly been a balm-like sleep, but their situation was too desperate. 

"Tarrant's gone," he announced in a tone of suitable gloom. "And so are Dayna and Soolin - AND _Scorpio_!" 

That got through to Avon. He sat up, clutching his throbbing head. "Are you sure?" 

"Yes, Avon, I am sure. And I warned you not to trust him!" 

"So you did." Avon stood, refusing Vila's helping hand. The discovery of _Scorpio's_ absence might have sobered up the thief's brain but seemed to have failed to steady his legs. Relying on Vila's support would probably make them both end up on the floor. 

Avon took the four steps necessary to reach the table where he had placed his portable computer. Slamming the key into place, he asked: 

"Orac, can you throw any light on the disappearance of _Scorpio_?" 

"Of course I can." The machine sounded as irritable as ever. "Tarrant took it for a test flight, along with Dayna and Soolin." 

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Avon extracted the key. "Satisfied, Vila?" 

"No," the thief replied. "He could still be running out on us. I mean, why didn't he leave a message?" 

Avon walked carefully back to his bed. "He probably did not consider it worth the trouble, judging you to be too drunk to find it anyway." 

Ignoring the barb, Vila went on: "You do realise that without _Scorpio_ we're lost, don't you? We've got no other means of transport, no supplies, food for less than three weeks. . ." 

"But wine for more than a year," Avon pointed out coldly. "So what are _you_ complaining about?" 

Vila took the hint. "All right, I'll go back to the storeroom then. Those bottles are better company than you!" 

Sitting down on the bed, Avon commanded: "First fetch me some wine!" 

"Here." Vila held out his half-finished bottle. Seeing the expression on Avon's face, he hurried away in search of a glass. 

After draining three glasses of wine in rapid succession, Avon lay back, closing his eyes. Vila watched him with concern. Avon was usually a moderate drinker. He must be feeling really bad, Vila concluded while softly leaving the room. Or could he be racked by guilt about Cally's death? 

Vila felt an intense sadness at the thought of their fallen companion. Now only he and Avon were left of Blake's original group. 

We're too old for this, he thought. We should get out now. Correction, we should have got out when we still had the _Liberator_. With the wealth from her strongroom we could have settled on a neutral planet, out of the Federation's reach. But no, Avon had to carry on, risk all in a futile search for Blake! 

And the man who prided himself on trusting no-one had fallen into a trap which cost him the _Liberator_ and the life of his closest companion.

* * *

Dayna woke up slowly, becoming aware of the heat and the distinctive smell of lush vegetation. Beneath her body she felt grass — short, soft, supple grass, not the sharp long stems of Sarran, her home planet. Cautiously opening her eyes, she took in her surroundings. Grass, bushes, trees with bright yellow trunks, the green of all foliage overlaid with a strange blue hue. A high wall enclosed the compound, preventing her from seeing what lay beyond. In the sky were two suns, one high up blazing with a blinding golden glow, the other lower and emitting a more subdued reddish light. 

Rolling over to her other side, Dayna saw she was lying in the shade of a simple stone shed, with an open rectangle as door and two square holes for windows. 

A few metres away Soolin was lying on her back, her loose, long fair hair draped out like a fan. 

Dayna rose, faltering for a moment at a wave of nausea. It passed quickly. Hurrying over to her companion, she knelt down at her side. 

"Soolin. Soolin, are you all right?" The sharpshooter opened her eyes and sat up in one smooth motion while her hand went for her gun. Finding the weapon not there, she frowned in dismay. 

"Dayna." At the sight of the familiar black features, Soolin relaxed somewhat. "Where are we?" 

"I've no idea." 

"Then let's find out." Soolin stood, casting a suspicious glance at her surroundings. "I seem to remember _Scorpio_ getting out of control." 

Dayna nodded. "Obviously we've landed." 

"In one piece," Soolin added. "Where's Tarrant?" 

Suddenly worried, Dayna looked about her. "I haven't seen him." 

"And no sign of _Scorpio_," Soolin observed. "Which means we must have been brought here." 

"So Tarrant could be alive too." 

"A fact he's going to regret!" 

Turning left, they followed the wall until they were back at the shed. 

"No entrance," Soolin remarked. 

"Then we'll have to climb over it," said Dayna practically. 

Soolin laid a restraining hand on her arm. "Let's try this shed first." 

The shelter was built against the wall. Inside were some blocks of wood, apparently to sit upon, and a metal container holding water which looked fresh. In the back wall was a large metal door. Dayna pushed against it.

"Locked." 

"From the outside," Soolin confirmed. 

Dayna gave up pushing the door. "Even Vila couldn't do anything with this - Vila! Avon!" she exclaimed, suddenly horrified. In her own peril she had forgotten about them being left behind. "If we can't go back, they're doomed. When the food runs out, they'll starve to death." 

"I don't think so," Soolin assured her. "The Hommiks manage to survive by hunting and foraging and so can they. Avon strikes me as a man with a considerable instinct for survival. He'll just have to—" 

Both women tensed when they heard a sound behind the door. They jumped to the wall, positioning themselves flat against it just as the door slid open. A man stepped wearily over the threshold. The door immediately closed behind him. 

The newcomer was unkempt, filthy, of indeterminable age and totally naked. He had a lean, not very muscular body, which did not seem to have seen a bath in a very long time. His greasy fair hair hung over his shoulders and his beard was equally dirty. 

"Hello," he said with a grin which showed his brown, decaying teeth. "Welcome to the zoo." 


	2. Chapter 2

Avon awoke, realising his headache had gone. His watch told him six hours had passed since Vila's warning but the state of his body made clear that he must have been asleep much longer. A more thorough consultation of his watch established the fact that it was the next day — he'd been sleeping for thirty hours. 

Avon hurried to the bathroom. While waiting for the bath to fill, he shaved, then immersed himself in the warm water. With the relaxation came the memories and Avon knew he had some unpleasant facts to face. 

Remembering Vila's face at his wine consumption the other day he smiled grimly, shaking his head. Seeking forgetfulness in alcohol was not his way. Nor was suicide, another option he should not even be contemplating. 

But Cally was dead, through his fault, and he had to find some means to live with that knowledge. 

The loss of _Liberator_ was nearly as great a disaster, yet he found he could face that. The ship had never really been his, he realised now, however hard he had tried to convince himself otherwise after Blake's disappearance. The shadow of his former leader had always hung over it. 

But Blake was dead, had been so for more than a year. While they had been roaming space in search for him (not that diligently, granted, but still, they _had_ followed up the more believable rumours about his whereabouts) Blake had been already dead and cremated, his ashes scattered to the winds. 

Perhaps now Avon could bury his memory along with that of the _Liberator_. 

Cally had been precious to him - the only truly honest person he'd ever encountered. A woman to trust, if he'd been able ever again to trust after Anna's betrayal. Cally had never betrayed him, and now she never would. 

He cast his mind back to their first meeting. A fearless freedom fighter she'd been then, talking about companions for her death. But in the end she had died alone, the worst fate for an Auron.

Gradually she had begun to have doubts about Blake's fight, about the ends of his cause justifying the means. And when her home planet was destroyed, along with nearly all her people, life had become hardly bearable for Cally. Perhaps it was for the best that she had died now, Avon thought. No more misery, no more pain for her to endure. 

Avon left the bath and went to stand under the body dryer. While the warm air was doing its job, he recalled his words to Cally, when he'd found her mourning her loss: "Regret is part of being alive, but keep it a small part." 

He would take his own advice. Avon smiled coldly, appreciating the irony. He switched off the dryer, dressed quickly and left the bathroom. There were things to do.

* * *

"Zoo?" Dayna echoed, looking round in astonishment. "Where are the occupants?" 

"Behind this." The man indicated the closed door. "They favour a gradual introduction." 

"Talking about introductions. . . ." Soolin began pointedly. 

"Oh, yes, of course." Again that grin. "Let me introduce myself: Mingen, former trader from Arella." 

"Came here for the sights?" Soolin inquired sceptically. Arellans were not noted to favour nudity. 

"What sights?" Dayna queried with scorn. 

Mingen pointed a grimy finger at the roof of the shed. "You can see from there." He walked through the doorway. "Come, I'll help you up." 

Agilely he climbed up a tree which stood conveniently near, slid along a branch and jumped onto the roof. Dayna and Soolin followed him, refusing his outstretched hand. 

"There." Mingen pointed. "That's the leader. I call him Snarl. I don't think they use names themselves. The seem to have lost their ability of speech." 

The women saw a humanoid figure sitting on the grass and munching on what seemed to be some kind of fruit. He too was completely naked, with the rugged complexion of one who spends his life outdoors under a burning sun. Even from that distance they could see the tangles in his grey hair and beard. 

Mingen grinned again. "I was brought in as challenger but I don't fancy the risk of being beaten to death. So I make myself scarce and toady up to him very reverently when he looks my way." 

He gestured at a group of children playing at the edge of a pool. "Those are all his." Mingen's hand veered to a cluster of trees, under which some human forms could just be made out in the deep shade. "His harem - only two of them left now. They stay out of the sun mostly sensible women, they are." 

Dayna looked away from the spectre. Incredulously, she asked: "Is it custom for the keepers to bring their families along? And to go about naked? And where are the animals?" 

Soolin was quicker of wit. "I don't think they are the keepers, Dayna." 

"That's right," Mingen affirmed blithely. He pointed at some elongated bright orange triangles which seemed to sail by in slow motion far away at the other side of the fence which surrounded the large compound. "They're the keepers." 

"Aliens!" Dayna gasped. 

"The inhabitants of this planet," Mingen explained. "_We_ are the animals, the occupants of their zoo."

* * *

Avon found Vila in the medical unit of the base. Looking the worse for wear and groaning softly, the thief was sifting through the contents of the medicine cupboard. 

"Seeking a cure for a hangover?" Avon enquired silkily. 

Vila turned round startled. "Oh, you're up, then. Feeling better?" 

"Yes." 

Vila dug up a jar with a bright green powder. Holding it out for inspection, he asked: "Could this be dilutable soma?" 

Avon glanced at the label and fought down the temptation to let Vila use it. "It's a laxative." 

"Oh." Disappointed, the thief put the jar back. 

Avon frowned. The base seemed ominously quiet. "Where are the others?" 

"Haven't seen them," Vila replied idly, while continuing his search. 

"You mean they're not yet back?" Alarmed, Avon strode out. 

Abandoning his quest, Vila followed him into the control room. 

Avon activated a camera. The screen on the panel in front of him showed the empty landing pad. 

Vila shrugged. "Tarrant must have lost track of the time - probably too busy trying to impress Soolin," he added mischievously. 

"They've been gone for more than thirty hours," Avon observed. "Do you seriously believe they would willingly go without refreshment for so long? Don't forget we finished all the food and drink we could find on _Scorpio_." 

"They could have taken something with them," Vila pointed out. 

"I doubt that they would have thought of that." Avon leaned over the communications console and pressed a button. "_Scorpio_, come in!" Getting no answer, he shouted: "Tarrant, Dayna, Soolin — answer!" 

Silence. 

"Oh no!" Vila fell down in a chair. "He's really absconded, leaving us here to starve. . . ." 

"Bring Orac!" Avon told him. 

Vila hurried to obey. He was back very quickly, carrying the computer over to a table. 

Reflecting cynically that a good fright was the instant cure for Vila's hangovers, Avon inserted the key. "Orac, where is _Scorpio_?" 

"That is something which cannot be stated with certainty," the machine replied in its pedantic voice. "However, it seems logical to assume the craft has landed somewhere on Peacock One." 

"Never heard of that," Vila muttered. 

"Peacock One is a small planet with Earth-like conditions," the computer explained. "One of the nearest habitable worlds to Xenon, although situated further towards the rim of the galaxy." 

"Silly name," Vila observed. 

"But perfectly explainable," Orac declared. "It was discovered by the astronomer Peacock and named after him. When he later discovered another planet, he designated that one as Peacock Two and consequently his first discovery became known as— " 

"Peacock One," Avon fell in impatiently. "What makes you think _Scorpio's_ there?"

"The craft was caught in a traction beam which, judging from its direction, originated from there. Given the time elapsed since the event, one would expect the craft to have reached the planet by now." 

"Orac," Avon asked with suspicion dawning, "_when_ exactly did _Scorpio_ fly into that traction beam?" 

"About an hour after Tarrant took off for his test flight." 

For once Vila caught on fast: "You mean it had already happened when Avon asked about _Scorpio_ yesterday?" 

"Certainly. A fascinating occurrence — a traction beam of that magnitude is —" 

"Why didn't you tell me THEN?" roared Avon. 

"You did not give me the chance." 

Avon was not buying that. "You were mentioning a test flight, deliberately misleading me!" 

The machine gave what sounded like an impatient sigh. "There was nothing to gain by informing you. You needed rest to prevent any lasting effects from that concussion. The human brain is notoriously vulnerable, which should be obvious to the feeblest of minds! Therefore it was  
my duty to let you recover before imparting the news." 

Avon's eyes flashed daggers at the machine. "How would you like to be reprogrammed by a feeble-minded human?" he enquired icily sweet, casting a meaningful glance at Vila. 

Orac's indignation was mingled with a trace of unease: "That would be most inadvisable." 

"Regrettably!" Briskly, Avon went back to business: "Does Peacock One belong to the Federation?" 

"No. It is inhabited by aliens, a highly civilised race— " 

"Aliens? Oh no!" Vila groaned. 

"Do these aliens have a name?" Avon asked. 

"That information is not available. There are, however, images in existence." 

Avon activated the base's main computer. "Put them on the screen." 

Orac did so. 

"Ice cream cones," Vila exclaimed. "They look like inverted ice cream cones with tentacles on top and sticks underneath!" 

"A fully mature individual can reach a height of seven metres," Orac lectured. "The six feelers on top contain sensors for sight, sound and taste. They also emit a humming noise, which is their means of communication. The twelve tentacles protruding from the bottom can be used for walking as well as handling tools. The brain, respiratory and digestive organs are all situated inside the protective casing which is of a horn-like material possessing the strength and durability of herculanium. The propagation process of this species is extremely interesting—" 

"That will do, Orac," Avon cut in. "I am not contemplating to mate with them." 

"Herculanium," Vila remarked. "That means you can't shoot through it, nor dent or burn it!" 

"Not with any weapon we've got," Avon agreed. 

"That is why the Federation have come to an understanding with them," Orac explained patiently. "They have agreed not to trespass on each other's interests. Basically, the aliens want to be left alone. In exchange for that they let the Federation's ships pass unmolested." 

"Then why pick on _Scorpio_?" Vila asked. 

"That must be apparent to the meanest intelligence," the computer answered with disdain. "_Scorpio_ is not registered as a Federation vessel." 

"If those aliens are so advanced, what would they want with a wreck like _Scorpio_?" Avon queried with cold reasoning. 

Orac had an answer, of course: "My guess is that they do not want the craft, but the crew." 

"You said," Avon pointed out, "that they prefer to avoid contact." 

"That is true. Their interest lies in science, not in trade or warfare. They are avid biologists, gathering and studying all kinds of species extensively. These are held in vast complexes, rather like the zoological gardens of Earth's pre-Atomic era. The aliens even seem to have embarked upon breeding programs for their most cherished species. It seems logical to assume that amongst those species humans are highly rated. And if the number of specimens is small, inbreeding must have become a major problem." 

The machine was silent for a moment, rather like a conjurer holding his audience in suspense before finishing his trick. 

"Therefore," it continued almost triumphantly, "my conjecture is that the occupants of _Scorpio_ will be used to bring fresh blood into the human population of their zoos."

* * *

"They need fresh stock," Mingen explained. "They exchange with other zoos, but that's been done now for so long that all captive humans on this planet are related. Half of the children born are either deformed or half-witted." He laughed without mirth. "Oh, they dispose of them; only the best of breed are allowed to live. But it decimates the population rather drastically. That's why they need to entrap outsiders." 

"Is that how you landed here?" Soolin asked. 

"Yes. Our craft was caught in their traction beam, there was nothing we could do. There were three of us. Yennion, our co-pilot, has been transferred to another zoo. Mortha could not face the life here. After Snarl had raped her and beaten her up for trying to resist him, she climbed up a tree and dived down. She landed on her head. A quick death." 

"Just my luck," muttered Soolin, "to get stranded on another planet with a bunch of blasted Hommiks!" 

"Well, I'm not planning to commit suicide," Dayna said decisively. "Nor am I going to allow that brute to lay his filthy hands on me." 

Sliding down from the roof, she added: "Time we start making some weapons to defend ourselves!" 

Soolin followed her down, landing less elegantly but without mishap. "I wish I had my gun. Those alien bastards must have taken it." 

"We'll make our own weapons." Dayna walked to a cluster of loose rocks scattered over the grass. "Those stones seem quite sharp, look at the ragged edges! We can use them as tools. And we've got plenty of wood. I'll show you how to make a spear, Soolin. It's really simple." 

"Teach me," Soolin invited her resolutely.

* * *

"Well, a zoo seems just the right place for Tarrant!" opined Vila. "He deserves no better, leaving us stranded like this! What are we going to do, Avon?" 

"Get _Scorpio_ back. I'm not letting some clique of inflated wafer-shaped aliens get away with stealing MY ship!" 

"Oh, brilliant!" Vila scoffed. "We just go and get it back, do we? Those knocks on your head must have done more damage than I thought. Can it really have slipped your mind that to go anywhere we need a spaceship which we haven't?" 


	3. Chapter 3

Grimly, Avon addressed his computer: "Orac, extend your sensors to maximum capacity, tap into the flight computer of the first suitable spacecraft you can find, overrule the directives and bring it within teleport range." 

Vila looked stunned. "I would never have thought of that." 

"That's something we can take for granted," Avon commented dryly.

"It won't work, of course," Vila hastened to add. "You are overestimating the capabilities of that conceited compilation of light bulbs!" 

Ignoring him, Avon said calmly: "Orac, relay all relevant data concerning Peacock One to the screen." 

"You are overloading my circuits," complained the machine. 

"You mean you are no better than a vulnerable, feeble human brain?" Avon asked with malicious sweetness. 

"That statement is ludicrous." Orac actually managed to sound offended. 

"Then get on with it!" 

The computer had to have the last word: "Oh very well, if you insist on misusing my superior powers for your petty affairs!" 

* * *

The men studied the information on the screen. 

"Average temperature thirty two degrees Celsius," Vila exclaimed with abhorrence. 

Avon shrugged. "Well, it's a change from all those subzero-temperature planets on which Blake used to land us, wouldn't you say?" 

"I prefer an Earth dome," Vila said petulantly. 

"You'd better go and find us some suitable garments," Avon suggested. "Meanwhile I'll see if I can devise a weapon powerful enough to penetrate a herculanium-like shell." 

Vila sighed. He never got on with aliens. Even Cally had often found pleasure in slighting him. "You're sure you want me to go with you?" 

Avon gave him a sceptical smile. "You'd rather stay here on your own?" 

Vila was tempted for three seconds. Then he thought about his meagre food supply, and those belligerent Hommiks outside the base. And suppose Avon found a better place and decided not to come back for him? "All right, you can take me with you." 

"My pleasure!" said Avon, with only mild sarcasm.

* * *

Tarrant groaned and tried to open his eyes. The heat hung over him like a heavy blanket. He felt a hand touch him on the shoulder. Managing to prise his eyelids open, he met a dark, penetrating gaze. 

Avon. . . ? Before he could speak the name he realised he was mistaken. Although equally brown and brooding, these eyes did not belong to his detested companion. The face that looked intently into his was young and female. A pretty face, crowned by long black hair which hung over her shoulders in many thin braids fastened by stems of grass. 

While he sat up, it dawned on Tarrant that the girl was stark naked. Her body looked as though it had just blossomed into womanhood. She could not be older than fifteen. 

Fragments of ancient legends, relating to a long forgotten religion, floated into his mind. "Is this paradise? Am I dead?" 

She gave him a disdaining stare. "Do you think I would take trouble to wake you up if you were dead?" Her voice sounded strained, as if she did not use her vocal cords often, and she seemed to select her words with care. 

"That makes sense." Tarrant brought out his most charming smile. "It was just that seeing you like that. . . ." 

"You are newly caught," she interrupted. "Not brought here from another zoo." It was a statement, not a question. 

"What do you mean, zoo?" Tarrant felt his temper rising. "I'm not a beast!"

"You are a human. Humans are kept like beasts here." 

Tarrant frowned. This sounded like he could be in a lot of trouble. 

"Where exactly am I?" 

"On Peacock One - in a zoo, like I said." She looked him over critically. "You're the new male. I knew they would bring in another when they took Yennion away." 

"Yennion?" Tarrant felt his confusion grow. 

"Our last stud." 

Tarrant groaned, remembering the Ultra and the giant brain. Had he fallen into the hands of another bunch of inquisitive aliens eager to see him perform the human bonding ceremony? 

"He proved a dud," the girl went on in a matter-of-fact tone. "So they did away with him." 

Tarrant looked at her in amazement. She spoke so calmly, so detached, as if killing a man because he failed to reproduce was the normal thing to do. 

But maybe it was, for her. "How long have you been here?" 

"All my life." She shrugged. "My mother was captured when travelling from Earth to Cerelli. The ship was caught in a beam and she was put here to breed. But she was already pregnant." The girl made a dismissive gesture. "I am not of those apes!" She spoke the word with utter contempt. 

Tarrant became aware of two other naked women and some children who stood warily looking at him from a distance. 

"My father was a first grade Alpha," the girl said proudly. Misreading Tarrant's amazed look, she elaborated: "That means the upper grade within the Alpha class - the aris-to-cra-cy." She carefully mouthed the word she had so often heard her mother use. 

Tarrant nodded. "The Super Alphas. Best of breed!" 

"Yes." His sarcasm was lost on the girl. "My father was a student at the Special Academy on Earth. Mother worked in the canteen, she was only a Delta. When they found she was pregnant, her parents dared not tell him. They sent her to her aunt on Cerelli, so no-one would find out about it. But she never arrived." 

Her eyes clouded. "She taught me to speak. The others do not speak, They have been here for many generations."

Tarrant glanced at the other women, wondering which of them was the girl's mother. Both seemed too young for that. "Is your mother here?" 

"No, she died in childbirth some time ago. She had four more children but they've all died. A disease came. Many died here. The studs too, and Yennion was a failure." 

"I'm sorry," Tarrant said, meaning about her mother. 

Turning her mind to practical matters, she asked: "Did you come with a ship?" 

"Yes, I'm a pilot, trained as a space captain. My name's Del Tarrant, by the way." Suddenly he remembered Dayna and Soolin. What had become of them? 

Casting his attention back to the girl, he just managed to catch her name. It sounded like Currah. 

"l'm named after my father," she said with a dreamy smile. "Mother said he was clever and resourceful. I used to dream that he would come and take me away. But he can't, he doesn't know about me." 

She took Tarrant's hand in hers. "You look clever and resourceful, no whiner like Yennion! You can take me away." Her expressive eyes pleaded as hard as her voice. "I do not want to spend my life here breeding like the others!" 

Tarrant felt his heart melt. "Of course I'll take you with me," he assured her. "Don't worry, I'll find a way to get us out!"

* * *

"This could become dangerous," Mingen protested. 

"Yes," Dayna affirmed grimly. "For them!" 

Soolin looked a bit doubtful at her handiwork: a long spear with a razor-sharp point. "If only I had my gun!" 

"At close range a spear can be just as effective," Dayna assured her. "Just make sure to drive the point in hard." 

With an uneasy look at the aliens in the distance, Mingen said: "With the scarcity of males they won't like him being damaged." 

Dayna smiled grimly. "Too bad." 

"They should not have brought us here, then," Soolin observed with cold logic. 

Mingen gave them an ingratiating smile. "Well, looking at the bright side, removing Snarl might not be so bad for me." 

"Mingen," Soolin said warningly. "Every man who tried to rape me has ended up as a falsetto!" 

He backed away. "Just joking. You've got nothing to fear from me. I'm not a violent man, you know." 

Dayna gave him a look of contempt. He reminded her of Vila, which in turn brought back their present plight. "When we've dealt with our charming suitor we'll have to find _Scorpio_." 

Soolin nodded. "And Tarrant, to fly her." 

"You can't do that?" 

"No, Dayna. I can keep it on course, but so can Slave. It takes a trained pilot to get her off the ground, which means we do need Tarrant." 

"More's the pity!" Dayna observed. 

"Unless. . . ." Soolin cast a reflective glance at their host. "Mingen, what was your function aboard your craft?" 

"First pilot. Why?" 

Hiding her excitement, Soolin asked: "Can you fly a Wanderer-class Planet Hopper Mark II?" 

Mingen raised his eyebrows. "You mean those are still in use?" 

Dayna took a step towards him. "CAN you fly one?" 

"Absolutely. No problem." 

The women exchanged glances. 

"Mingen, you've just earned yourself a job," Soolin told him. 

"Provided we find _Scorpio_," Dayna remarked. 

"And she's still intact," Soolin added soberly. 

"She'd better be," Dayna said. "We can't expect Avon to come and get us out this time."

* * *

"I have located a suitable spacecraft," Orac announced with smug satisfaction. 

Avon looked up from the gun he was working on. "What kind of craft?" 

"A Federation pursuit ship." 

"You always maintained that you were not able to override their computer systems," Avon reminded the machine. 

"Not those of the current models, that is true. But this is an old one, a standard Mark lV, manned by a captain and two mutoids. l have taken control of their flight computer and am directing it towards Xenon. As I took the precaution of feeding false information into their navigation computer, they are not yet aware of their course change." 

"Well done. When will it be in teleport range?"

"In precisely thirty-two minutes and twenty-eight seconds." 

"Good." Avon went back to his job. When he heard the door open, he said without looking up: "Orac's found us a craft; a pursuit ship." 

"A FEDERATION pursuit ship? Oh no!" Vila dropped the green flight suits he'd found onto a chair. "Why couldn't he have picked out a nice civilian ship?" 

Avon made a last adjustment and laid down his tools. "At least a pursuit ship is fast." 

That was not his only reason for satisfaction. He'd been worrying about what to do with the crew of the ship selected for their hijack. Knowing himself to be less ruthless and unscrupulous than he liked to pretend, the prospect of killing innocent civilians had not been something to look forward to; Federation officers and mutoids he could kill without compunction. 

Avon turned to appraise the garments Vila had found. They did not look exactly suitable for a tropical climate, but would have to do. 

"We'd better change," he told Vila. "The ship will be in teleport range in half an hour." 

"What about that weapon?" the thief asked, moving over to Avon to cast an inquisitive glance at the gun. "Have you devised a method of blasting through herculanium-like shell?" 

"No, but I've found another solution. Look." Aiming the gun carefully at a spot on the floor, Avon pulled the trigger. A beam shot from the barrel, was reflected by the floor to the wall and shattered the lamp hanging there. 

Proudly, Avon explained: "Delayed explosive action. We can hit those aliens inside their shell by reflective shooting. It just needs a steady hand and a precise aim." 

"Brilliant," Vila exclaimed. "You really are a genius, Avon!" He took a few paces back before adding: "Hasn't got the remotest chance of working!"

* * *

Dressed in a flight suit, with the special gun stuck in his belt and one of Dorian's clip-guns in his hand, Avon materialised on the flight deck of the pursuit ship. He instantly shot one mutoid in the back. The other started to turn round but was blasted down before she could give the alarm.

The captain was not at his post. Scanning the instruments, Avon saw the craft was on night watch. Remembering the ship's plan Orac had produced, he went aft to the captain's cabin and pressed the opening panel. The metal door slid away noiselessly, revealing the captain lying on his bunk. Repressing all emotion, Avon aimed his gun carefully at the sleeping man and killed him with a single bolt. 

After pushing the bodies into the airlock and ejecting them, Avon activated the communicator on his teleport bracelet. "Vila, l've got things under control here. Get Orac and tell it to bring you over." 

A moment later the thief arrived, carrying the computer. Putting the machine down on a console, Vila took an inquisitive look round the flight deck. 

Wasting no time, Avon instructed: "Orac, set a course for Peacock One. Maintain the relay of disinformation to the monitoring station as long as you can." He sat down at the main pilots seat, familiarising himself with the controls. 

Vila dropped into the seat beside him, "Can you fly this thing?" 

"Yes, even without Orac's help, if necessary." Avon smiled thinly. "I didn't do badly piloting _Liberator_, did I? And these controls are far less complicated." His jaw tightened. "Mind, it needs a trained pilot like Tarrant to manoeuvre such a piece of junk as _Scorpio_!" 

Lines of thought appeared on Vila's normally smooth forehead. "But we don't need _Scorpio_ any more, do we, Avon? We've got this ship now, it's faster, better, more reliable and easier to fly. We don't need Tarrant, nor the others. Leave them where they are! After all, they deliberately went off with _Scorpio_, abandoning us to our fate. If they end up as exhibits in an alien zoo they've got only themselves to blame!" 

Looking at Avon's set face, vainly trying to gauge his thoughts, Vila went on persuasively: "Let's go and rob a few banks! Make ourselves rich. Then we can settle on a neutral planet and start to enjoy our life." 

Avon's eyes lit up. His face shining with greed, he whispered hoarsely: "To be so rich that no-one can touch me." 

"Exactly," Vila agreed eagerly. "Wealth gives independence. We can be free, Avon! Blake's dead, we need no longer search for him. Tarrant and the others brought themselves into trouble. Forget about them! The galaxy's full of riches. Let's get our share before we'll be too old to enjoy spending it."


	4. Chapter 4

"We'll have to wait until dusk, when the zoo closes," Currah said, indicating the cone-shaped aliens who strolled by leisurely on the other side of the high fence. 

"We won't be able to see in the dark," Tarrant protested. Patience was not his forte. 

"It never gets really dark," the girl told him. "Before the last sun sets the first moon rises. Peacock One has four moons." With avid curiosity, she asked: "Is it true Earth has just one moon, and a single sun?" 

Tarrant nodded. "Yes." 

"That's what my mother told me. Are you from Earth, Del Tarrant?" 

"Yes." 

"Are you a first grade Alpha?" 

"No." Tarrant became a little irritated by the girl's harping on class distinctions. Well, she probably couldn't help it, he decided. The subject seemed to have been of utmost importance to her mother. Smiling, he added: "But I've got one amongst my associates." 

Tarrant tried to visualise Avon's reaction to the girl. His cold demeanour would quickly cure her of any fancy for the Federation's top class! 

That brought his mind back to Dayna and Soolin. "I had two girls with me when my ship was caught in that beam. We must find them before I can leave. Have you any idea where they could be?" 

"They must have been taken to another zoo. One with a shortage of women." 

Tarrant looked appalled. "There's more than one on this planet?" 

"Oh yes. My mother and l have been moved twice." 

That was not good news. "And _Scorpio_ — my craft. Have you any idea where to find it?" 

"At a Spaceport, I think. Or maybe they brought it to a research place for study." 

The pilot frowned in dismay. He foresaw no difficulty in escaping from the zoo but finding _Scorpio_ and getting off the planet looked like a more complicated operation than he'd envisaged.

* * *

"Do you really think there's one neutral planet in the galaxy where we would be safe?" Avon enquired bitterly. "With the price the Federation's put on our heads we'd be the target of every kill-happy bounty-hunter." 

His mouth twisted into a sardonic smile when he realised he'd been quoting Blake. "Even with new identities we'd be spotted eventually, and mercilessly hunted down. Do you want to spend the rest of your life on the run, Vila? Fleeing from one luxury resort to the next, wondering all the time when the knock on the door will come?" 

"We're on the run now,'I the thief pointed out miserably. "What's the alternative?" 

"Going on the attack. Bring down the Federation. Take over the government of Earth. Grant ourselves full amnesty and a suitable reward for our services to mankind. Then we hand over power to a puppet regime and can retire in respectable luxury." 

Vila eyed his companion with utter disbelief. "You've gone mad, Avon! Bringing down the Federation? The two of us? Succeeding where even Blake failed?"

"Blake was a fool!" 

"And now he's haunting you?" Vila taunted. "His ghost urging you to keep up the fight? No, thank you, Avon. I'll take my chance on a neutral planet. And if I have to live on the run, I'd rather do it in luxury than squalor!" 

"It is not a question of choice, Vila. Winning is our only option! But you are right, we can't do it on our own. That's why we need to find the others. They can be more usefully employed than rotting away in some alien zoo." 

Resignedly, Vila smiled, aware that Avon was again playing his old game of putting forward selfish reasons for protecting his companions. _Idiot!_ he thought almost affectionately. _Why can't you just simply admit that you do care_? 

"It's Dayna, isn't it?" he challenged. "Tarrant's a bully and Soolin a stranger — and they can look after themselves. But you feel responsible for Dayna. She's still a child and her father entrusted her to you." 

"Think what you like!" Avon snapped, angry because Vila's remark was too near the truth. After a pause, he added more calmly: "We've lost Cally, Vila. Do you really want to lose Dayna as well?" 

Not waiting for an answer, Avon addressed his computer: "Orac, when will we reach Peacock One?" 

"In seven hours time." 

"How do we know where to find them?" Vila asked. "I mean, a planet is a large area to search." 

"Orac has calculated the coordinates of the source of that beam. We'll target that area first. If _Scorpio's_ still intact Orac should be able to make contact with Slave." 

"The beam!" Vila sat up in alarm. "If it catches us WE could end up in their zoo!" 

Grabbing his arm, Avon forced him back into his seat. "They wont activate that beam for us. We're in a Federation ship, remember!" 

"Oh, yes." Vila calmed down, but just a bit. His fertile imagination could conjecture up countless perils. "But Orac said they don't want contact. What do we do when they find us breaching their airspace and ask us to leave? Providing they DO take the trouble to ask us to leave, instead of blasting us to pieces."

"We tell them we've developed a fault in the steering system and request permission to land so we can fix it." 

"How do you communicate with aliens?" Vila wanted to know. 

"I've no idea, but the Federation must have found a way." 

"It is more likely," Orac volunteered, "that the aliens have found a means of communicating with the Federation." 

Avon turned to Vila. His smile was rather grim. "Well, in that case we'll have to wait and see."

* * *

Dayna's sharp ears caught the sound first. "Listen!" 

Now they could all hear a soft, zooming noise, gradually increasing in volume. 

Mingen's face lit up. "Feeding time. That's the food trolley. There!" He pointed at the sky. 

The women saw what looked like a silver tray glide down towards them. "I've heard of flying carpets, Soolin murmured. "This is just as ridiculous!" 

Mingen began to run towards the centre of the compound. The tray landed at his feet. Nearing it more warily, the women saw it was stacked with bowls of fruit, vegetables and eggs. Between the bowls stood high ﬂasks with what looked like water and fruit juices. 

Mingen sat down on the grass and tucked into the food. "They keep us on a healthy diet," he informed them rather indistinctly, chewing on a string of bluish-hued green leaves. 

"No cutlery?" Dayna joked while lowering herself. 

Soolin followed her example, eyeing the food distrustfully. She recognised some of the fruits, like bananas, apples and pears. Others were totally unknown to her. She tentatively picked up a pear. "I hope they've washed the skin." 

Dayna - young, still growing and possessing a healthy appetite - tried some of the vegetables. Spitting them out, she pulled a face. 

"You'll get used to it," Mingen assured her. 

"I doubt it." Dayna proceeded to shell an egg. "This looks normal." 

"It is," Mingen confirmed. "I've heard they breed chickens especially to provide the eggs for us."

"How very considerate of them," said Soolin with heavy sarcasm. Dayna studied the tray, wondering whether it could be converted into some kind of weapon. "What happens with this?" 

"it automatically returns to its base when we've finished." Mingen reached for an egg. "Everything here's automated: food delivery, cleaning, maintenance. I've never seen one of the aliens inside, yet." 

Soolin leaned over to him excitedly. "You mean it's all done by means of these flying things?" 

"That's right," Mingen said, dropping the pieces of egg-shell nonchalantly on the tray. "The mucking-out tray's much larger, though." 

"_How_ large?" 

Understanding what Soolin had in mind, Dayna awaited the answer with equal tension. 

Still unaware of their thoughts, Mingen shrugged his shoulders. "Some two by three metres, I'd say." 

"And it flies, just like this thing?" Soolin wanted to be sure. 

"Well, yes." 

Dayna asked eagerly: "When does it arrive?" 

"In the morning. First thing that's done, each morning: cleaning the place." 

Soolin turned to Dayna. "If it is that big, it must be able to hold us." 

The dark-skinned girl nodded. "Our means of escape." 

"But. . . ." Mingen caught on at last. "That's very dangerous!" 

"Life's full of danger," Soolin informed him coldly. 

"Without danger there's no excitement," Dayna added. 

He gave a disappointed sigh. "Well, I shall miss you two." 

Soolin leaned over him. Casting him an icy smile, she said: "But you're coming with us, Mingen." 

"No!" Appalled, he drew away from her, spilling juice from the flask he'd picked up. "No, l'm not the adventurous type. I mean, I've got shelter and food here, and when Snarl snuffs it his harem will be mine." 

Dayna took the flask from his grasp. "But _we_ need you, Mingen." 

"That's right," Soolin confirmed. "You're a pilot. We're in need of a pilot."

"So you'll come with us," Dayna added with a threatening smile. "Whether you like it or not."

* * *

"We are within visual range of Peacock One," Orac announced. 

"Put it on the screen," Avon commanded. 

"Looks far too blue to be a healthy place," Vila commented after critical scrutiny. 

"Orac," Avon asked, "have you picked up any detection beams yet?" 

"No, but we're still a long way off. Planetfall will be established in one hour and two minutes. Our destination will just have entered its night cycle then." 

"So, maybe the aliens will all be asleep," Vila ventured hopefully. 

Avon frowned. "Finding our way in the dark will not be easy." 

"It never gets dark on Peacock One," Orac told him. "Even during the three hours per night that both suns are beneath the horizon, at least one of the four moons will be visible." 

With a distinct glee, the computer added: "A fact which a supposedly astute mind like yours should have been able to deduct from the information I gave you earlier." 

Before the mind in question could come up with a suitable retort, Vila said: "Do we _have_ to land, Avon? Why can't we use the teleport?" 

Avon gave him a scathing glare. "Because for that we need either Xenon's teleport bay or that of _Scorpio_. . . ." 

He fell silent, then brought his thoughtful gaze back to the computer: "Orac, it is possible for you to teleport us to _Scorpio_?" 

"Certainly, provided the teleport system is still operational." 

"Warn us the moment we're within range. With a bit of luck we can teleport without having to enter their airspace." Raising a mocking eyebrow at the thief, Avon observed: "Your wits are improving, Vila. Must be the quality of Dorian's wine!"

* * *

Currah waved an arm at the last aliens who were ushered away by what looked like a flying shoebox. "Closing time. I think they rest during the dusk hours. We'll wait a bit longer to give them time to settle down." 

Tarrant, who had been walking up and down the length of fence impatiently, gave a sigh of relief. Following her to a clump of bushes, he watched in amazement as she reached down. "What are you doing?" 

"Turning the lens of the surveillance camera away from this area." She held the foliage aside to give him a view on a red glowing glassy eye on a metal stake. 

"Surveillance cameras? Here?"

"Of course, how else do they know when there's an emergency for them to deal with?" She shrugged. "Do not worry, I've located them all ages ago. Besides, I do not think they watch that diligently at night. When something happens during dusk time it takes them much longer to react." 

The pilot scowled. Being imprisoned was bad enough; having his every move watched by a group of giant aliens was intolerable! 

The girl indicated a high tree with lush foliage. "We'll climb up there, to that branch which reaches over the fence. I've made a rope from some ivy strands. It is strong enough to hold our weight. We bind it onto the branch and use it to climb down at the other side." 

Tarrant gave her a superior laugh. "There's no need for all that, Currah. We can climb up the fence. Look!" 

Before she could utter a warning he hooked his fingers round the mesh. He was thrown back violently, falling down unconscious before his ears had time to register the sharp, hissing sound. 


	5. Chapter 5

Currah bent over Tarrant to feel his pulse. Having established that he was still alive, she gave vent to her anger: "You fool! Why can't you listen before you rush into action? Idiot! Now I'll have to wait for you to come round. A waste of time!" 

With angry steps she moved to the stream which ran through the compound, picking up a hollow piece of wood on the way to hold the water she needed to bring him round. Why did she always have to end up with useless men! Yennion had been a whining coward who'd not even dared to think of escaping to safe his own life, when his failure to produce offspring had become apparent. And this Tarrant seemed intent on rushing into trouble. 

Currah sighed. How different things could have been if only her father knew about her. He would certainly come to her rescue, of that she was convinced. And he'd have made a better job of it than Tarrant! 

A thought occurred to her. If Tarrant managed to find his crew back, she did not want to meet them naked. Her mother had told her how important clothes were for outsiders, how she'd cried when the garments she'd worn when captured had at last decayed and fallen from her body. 

Putting down the bowl, the girl kneeled beside Tarrant and began to remove his tunic. She did not like the dull grey colour, but it would have to do. Feeling a surge of excitement, she dressed for the first time in her life. It felt strange - itchy and very warm. The tunic hung nearly on her knees and the sleeves were much too long. She folded them back, angrily trying again when they refused to stay up, until at last she succeeded. 

Feeling civilised at last, she began to devote her attention to the task of bringing Tarrant back to his senses.

* * *

"Night time," Mingen announced. 

"Strange, to have night without darkness," Dayna observed. 

"You'll get used to it," Mingen assured her. 

Soolin shook her head. "We won't be here long enough for that!" 

Dayna stifled a yawn. "I think we should have a rest." 

"Better if we take it in turn," Soolin said. "I don't fancy that snarling brute sneaking up on me while I'm asleep." 

"Oh, they won't let him in here before tomorrow," Mingen assured her. 

Soolin was not prepared to take his word for that. Besides, she did want to keep an eye on him too. It was no use them escaping back to _Scorpio_ — providing they'd be able to find the craft - without a pilot to fly the thing. Even if Tarrant was still alive, Soolin did not plan wasting time to search for him. 

She looked at the huge moon which was rising majestically over the horizon. "You sleep first, Dayna. I'll wake you when that moon's at its highest." 

Mingen grinned. "By that time the first sun will be up again. Nights are very short here." 

"In that case," Soolin replied unperturbed, "I think I'll do without sleep tonight."

* * *

Aboard the stolen pursuit ship Orac announced with smooth satisfaction: "I have located _Scorpio_, established a link with Slave and ascertained that the teleport is still operational." 

"Good." Avon rose from his seat. "Put this ship into an orbit just within teleport range." 

"Orbit established. Automatic pilot is activated." 

Drawing his reflection gun, Avon ordered: "Vila, take Orac." 

"Do you think this is wise?" the thief queried anxiously. "I mean, wouldn't it be better to leave Orac here - with me to keep an eye on him?" 

Catching Avon's exasperated stare, Vila hurried to obey. "Orac's heavy, you know," he grumbled, picking up said object. "Why can't you carry him?" 

"I've got the gun. Or do you really want me to have to waste time putting Orac down in order to draw my weapon when we come face to face with the aliens?" 

Seeing the value of Avon's argument, Vila went resignedly to stand beside him. 

"Ready?" Not waiting for a reply, Avon instructed: "Now, Orac!"

* * *

They materialised on _Scorpio's_ flight deck. While Avon did a quick round to check for damage, Vila placed Orac on the floor and fell down into a seat. 

"I never thought I would see this old tub again." 

Avon nodded absent-mindedly. "There seems to be no damage. Confirm, Orac!" 

"All systems are functioning to satisfaction." 

"Good." Avon activated a scanner. "Let's see how it looks outside." 

Vila strolled over to watch the screen with him. It showed a vast open space with a floor of metal plates. Various vehicles were parked in neat rows. Next to each object, about seven metres high, was what looked like a show case placed on incredible thin poles. 

"Look at those crafts! What is this?" 

Avon shrugged. "Some kind of research centre, perhaps?" 

"Or a museum," Vila guessed. "Those cases could be a kind of information board." 

"For creatures who stand seven metres tall. You maybe right," Avon conceded. "There must be something in Xenon's air which is beneficial to your brain cells." 

He pushed a button. The screen went blank. "Orac, are there any computers here you can hack into?" 

Curtly, the machine replied: "These alien systems are not provided with tariel cells. However, they use something very similar. After some study I think I may be able to read and translate their information." 

"Then hurry up with it. Concentrate on _Scorpio's_ crew. Try to find out where they've taken them." Avon turned to Vila. "l'm going to do some reconnaissance. It seems too much to hope for that the others are actually here, but I'll take a look anyway. You stay here. Warn me the moment Orac comes up with something." 

"Are you sure you want to go out?" Vila asked unhappily. But he saw that special gleam of curiosity in the other's eyes. The one thing that could make Kerr Avon forget his inborn caution was the prospect of sticking his nose into some piece of advanced technology. 

Resignedly Vila activated the scanner and watched the screen until Avon had gone out of view. The next half hour he divided his nervous attention between his watch and the screen, expecting the imminent appearance of some horrible alien. 

Vila almost jumped out of his seat when his teleport bracelet chimed. 

"Vila. Vila! VlLA!" the unmistakable voice called with increasing impatience. 

The thief fumbled for his bracelet, his fingers gliding from the communicator twice before he managed to push the button. "Yes, Avon." 

"At last! Don't tell me you fell asleep. Or have you managed to smuggle a bottle of booze on board?" 

Excuses seemed pointless. "Where are you?" 

"Still in the complex. There's no sign of the others. This seems indeed to be some kind of transport museum, with a large wall around it, about ten metres high. They've got an impressive collection of vehicles here, from huge spaceships to tiny dome-hoppers. I've come across a small flyer of Earth design, which is fuelled and operational—" 

"Isn't that odd?" Vila interjected anxiously. "Surely they would have thought of immobilising it?" 

"They probably don't know it's in working order. With their size they can't get in for a proper investigation. Presumably they found it stored in the hold of one of the large transport vessels on show here. We can use it to go in search for the others. Has Orac come up with something yet?" 

Vila cast a lazy glance at computer. "No, he's still buzzing away." 

"Right, I'll bring the flyer to _Scorpio_. There seems to be no alarm attached to it." 

"Be careful," Vila cautioned him. "In a museum you'd expect all kinds of security devices." 

"Yes. There are what look like cameras at regular intervals low on the wall, but they're all pointing upwards, angled to catch much larger creatures. I can stay below their reach." 

"You haven't met any aliens yet?" 

"No, the place seems deserted. Closed down for the night, probably. Out." 

Vila's eyes stayed glued to the screen until he saw a small craft hover into view, flying about a metre above the floor. After making a perfect touchdown Avon alighted from the vehicle. 

Back in _Scorpio_, he briskly addressed Orac: "Well? - and don't tell me that is not a question!" 

"I am still in the process of sorting the fascinating information. The level of civilisation of this species is truly astounding. . . ." 

Avon was not in the mood for a lengthy discussion of the subject. "Have you located Dayna and the others?" 

With apparent irritation the computer answered: "I have found some indications about the whereabouts of your missing crew members. The women may have been transferred to a large park cum zoological garden some hundred and twenty kilometres to the south of here. Tarrant could have been brought to serve in a similar institution, roughly two hundred and forty-five kilometres to the northwest, where they were in need of a procreative male. Do you want the coordinates?" 

"Yes," Avon made a mental note of them. 

"What's a procreative male?" Vila wanted to know. 

Avon told him. 

"In that case, the Vila observed, grinning broadly, "it would be a shame to take him away from his delights." 

"His need for rescue seems not to appear urgent," Avon agreed dryly. "We'll give priority to finding the girls. But first we need to disable that traction beam, otherwise when _Scorpio_ flies out they can just haul her in again. Orac, can you do something about that beam?" 

"No, this system is not compatible enough for manipulation. It is only due to my unique capacities that I am able to read it. I can provide the technical details of that beam, but any sabotage will have to be done manually." 

Avon nodded. "Give me the data."

* * *

Tarrant groaned. 

"Wake up," Currah urged, shaking him by the shoulder. "Half the night's gone already! If you tarry any longer we'll have lost our chance." 

The pilot opened his eyes, disorientated for a moment by staring at his own tunic. "What happened?" 

"You got a shock." 

"That fence. . . l remember." He tried to sit up but found his strength failing. 

The girl saw it with dismay. "Stand up!" 

Tarrant tried. "It's no use," he gasped. "You'll have to go alone." 

"I would have done that long ago if I had a chance of leaving this planet on my own," she informed him coldly. "But I need your space ship and you to pilot it. So get on your feet!" 

With her help he managed to sit on his knees, but it became distressingly clear that he would not be up to walking, let alone tree-climbing. 

The pain of disappointment searing through her heart, Currah let go of him. She'd come so close. . . .Too close to give up now! There must be another way. Think! 

If they could climb onto the cleaning vehicle. . . but that came in the morning. Currah knew that any attempt to escape in full view of surveillance and visitors was doomed. To have any chance of success it had to be done during the short night. 

The maintenance vehicle - that came when it was needed. But at night it would only fly out for a major breakdown. So, she had to provide a major breakdown. Currah thought of the spy cameras. One out of order would not be registered as a urgent, but if all failed at once. . . 

She knew where the main feeding cable came into the complex. She also knew, with her faculty for logical reasoning, that it would be dangerous to touch. But she had learned that you could touch the fence with a wooden stick without getting a shock. It seemed logical to presume that this would work with the cable as well. Walking over to a large shrub, she selected and broke off a thin branch with a twig growing at right angles like a hook. 

While Tarrant lay still, following her actions with his eyes but unable to contribute, she dug up the cable. Hooking the stick under the thick coated wire, she then pulled hard, hoping to break the cable. That proved impossible. Refusing to admit defeat, Currah desperately pulled again and again. At last something gave; not the cable but its connections to the feeder. 

Having lost her balance through the sudden release, Currah regained her feet in one gracious movement. 

"Keep away from the bare ends," Tarrant warned her. 

The girl nodded. "The maintenance car has to come low to repair this. You must be ready to climb onto it!"

* * *

"Strange, isn't it?" Vila observed. "Those aliens so tall and all their work panels so low." 

"That's because their hands are down with their feet," Avon commented, squatting in front of the open maintenance panel for the traction beam to study the circuitry. 

Following Orac's directions, they'd had no trouble finding the building which housed the controls for the beam. Moreover, they'd found it deserted, the aliens seemingly not employing any kind of night watch. 

"Can you do it?" Vila asked, clamping _Scorpio's_ tool kit in his hands as if seeking courage from that. 

"Yes. It really is extremely simple. For a species which is supposed to have such a superior civilisation, their employment of electronics is very basic." 

The thief scanned the room uneasily, expecting an alien to enter any moment. "Well, with their hands down and their eyes very much up, they probably can't see what they're doing." 

"Of course!" Avon stood to stretch his cramped legs. "They have to work by touch. With those rigid shells they cannot bend down." He produced a disdaining smile. "Not exactly one of nature's most successful efforts at evolution!" 

"Who cares?" Vila said nervously. "Could you please get on with it?" 

Avon lowered himself onto his knees. Concentrating on his task, he worked in silence, speaking only to ask for the tools he needed. After a quarter of an hour he rose. "Done." 

"About time," Vila remarked. "This has taken us much too long!" 

"And whose fault is that?" Avon asked sweetly. 

"Well, it was an _alien_ lock," Vila said defensively. It had cost him six seconds to open it, but before that he'd spent twenty minutes to satisfy himself there were no hidden catches and the lock was indeed as simple as it appeared. 

"It is fortunate that all their door controls are situated near the floor," Avon observed while the huge door slid close behind them. "You'd better set that lock again, so as not to betray that someone's been inside." 

Vila did as he was told. "I still can't believe that we haven't been detected," he remarked while they climbed into the flyer. 

"We're too small for them to notice," Avon hazarded, lowering himself into the driver's seat. "Their detectors are all aimed at catching much taller creatures. Compared to them we're no more than, say, cats or small dogs." 

Vila settled into the passenger seat. The flyer was very small, with two seats in the front and a bench in the back. "How far is it from here to that park where Dayna's supposed to be?" 

"Eighty-three kilometres." 

A frown of worry appeared on Vila's high forehead. "We'll never make it before sunrise." 

"I know," Avon replied curtly. "It can't be helped." Consulting the navigational display, he started the flyer and steered it in the correct direction.

* * *

"At last," Currah breathed when a soft zooming announced the approach of the maintenance car. "Tarrant, wait until it finishes the repair. We must chose the right moment." 

Lying beside the girl, hidden in the bushes near the place of sabotage, the pilot nodded. He was still feeling awful, but reckoned he would now be able to manage the few steps to the device. 

"Will it carry our weight?" 

The girl shrugged, the fabric of Tarrant's tunic clinging uncomfortably to her shoulders. "We'll have to risk it." 

The flying contraption, looking like a large open box with all kinds of tools on mechanical arms attached to its sides, glided unerringly to the disconnected cable. Hovering a few centimetres above the grass, its tools reached out and began their job. 

Tarrant looked on in amazement. The aliens must be highly advanced to produce such levels of automated technology. 

"NOW," Currah whispered when the 'hands' were busy with the last connection. 

She helped Tarrant up. Supported by her he took the few paces to the vehicle, stepped over the side and gratefully fell down amongst the neatly arrayed and securely fastened collection of spare parts. 

The girl lowered herself at his side. "Keep your head down. Those scanners will be activated the moment the repair's completed." 

"Where will this take us?" he asked. She pointed a finger. "To the large building you can see above the trees there." 

"A kind of administration centre?" 

"I suppose so. The food cart comes from there too." 

They felt the vehicle rise and gather speed. Despite her warning, Currah risked a glance over the side. Joy and excitement filled her heart as she saw her prison dwindling into the background when the vehicle turned, heading for the tall building in the distance. 

The first step towards her freedom had been taken. There was still a long way to go, but if she could prevent this Tarrant from rushing into any further impulsive actions, she knew they had a chance to succeed. 

With dismay Currah saw the sky redden, heralding sunrise. The first golden rays sprang from the horizon just as their transporter reached the building. A panel zoomed open automatically and the craft flew through the gap. They had just a moment to take in their surroundings while the vehicle headed for a rack on the wall about five metres above the ground. Behind them the panel closed, leaving them in total darkness. Suddenly the vehicle tippled sideways. Disorientated by the sudden move, neither Currah nor Tarrant had time to grab onto a hold. They fell down, landing savagely on the hard metal floor. 


	6. Chapter 6

Despite her resolution to stay awake, Soolin had lost her battle against sleep sometime during the short night. The after-effects of the unconsciousness caused by the acceleration, combined with the debilitating heat and oppressive air, had taken their toll. 

Dayna, equally exhausted, slept through the short night, as did Mingen.

Ten minutes before sunrise the door in the shed slid open. Snarl, always a light sleeper, caught the faint sound and immediately rose to inspect his domain. His women were sleeping peacefully, the children were stirring but knew better than to wake their elders. 

His instinct led Snarl to the place where the shed was built into the wall. Seeing the open door, he stepped unhesitatingly over the threshold. 

Snarl halted at the sight of the women. Mingen, who with cautious foresight had chosen a resting place well away from them, remained undetected. 

Never before having seen a black-skinned person, Snarl shied away from Dayna, instinctively distrusting the unknown. Soolin with her long blond hair was highly to his taste. The fact that she was dressed excited him. It meant that she was an outsider, and needed to be tamed. 

Born in captivity, Snarl had grown up in a group not yet decimated by disease. He had fought his way up in the hierarchy to the position of dominant male, and was proud of his prowess. Knowing no better, he was used to taking what he wanted. 

With a growl of anticipation, he threw himself upon Soolin, tearing at her clothes. Immediately awake, she lashed out at him in a reflex, hitting him on the jaw. Instead of knocking him out, the blow enraged him. Snarling viciously, he began to hammer blows upon her body.

* * *

Hitting the floor, Tarrant felt a sharp stab sear through his ankle. A growl, as much of frustration as pain, escaped his mouth. In the dark he felt totally disorientated, like flying through thick clouds with all your instruments on the blink. 

Fighting down panic, he began to feel round him for the girl. All he could sense were the cold, hard, metal floor plates. 

Then his eyes began to adjust and he found there was some light, coming in from under the door panel. Gradually Tarrant began to see dark shapes outlined against a lesser blackness. 

Currah was lying about three metres away from him, ominously unmoving. Tarrant tried to stand but thought better of it the moment he moved his ankle. Gritting his teeth, he crawled towards her. 

She was unconscious, although breathing evenly. Tarrant could feel no broken bones in her skull, but his hands came away from her hair sticky with blood. 

Well, that could have been worse, he told himself with desperate optimism. Scalp wounds tended to bleed a lot, even when they were insignificant. Currah was probably just concussed, and would come round soon. 

The problem was that neither of them was in a shape to get away form here, or even to put up a fight. Before long, their escape would be noticed, and it probably would not take those aliens long to figure out where they'd gone. Detection seemed unavoidable.

* * *

Dayna, woken by the sounds of fighting and reacting with her huntress's instinct, reached for her spear. She thrusted the weapon violently at Snarl's back. Receiving a kick from Soolin's knee in a place where it hurt, he rolled away at that very moment. Thrown off balance, Dayna fell forwards, landing on the ground on top of her spear, which broke in two. 

Howling with pain but determined to beat his prey into obedience, Snarl resumed his attack. Furious with her failure to stop him, Dayna grabbed him from behind and resolutely broke his neck. 

Soolin sat up, dusting herself down. "Thanks." 

"My pleasure," Dayna assured her, letting go of the corpse. Catching sight of Soolin's spear, she quickly picked it up. 

Mingen, woken by the fracas, peered from behind a bush. Seeing that the danger was over, he walked a bit warily towards the women. After one glance at Snarl's body, looking unmistakably dead, he said: 

"So you really got him! They won't like that,you know." 

"Well, I didn't like his advances," Soolin retorted sharply. 

"Listen!" Dayna said, her trained ears catching the awaited sound from afar. 

Now they all could hear the zooming. Turning towards the direction of the sound, they studied the approaching object. It looked like a large open metal box. Descending gracefully, it remained hovering about half a metre above the ground. 

Fascinated, the women saw it was filled with all kinds of cleaning equipment, buckets, brooms, sponges, scrapers, all attached to long arms fastened to the sides of the vehicle. 

Zooming softly, it glided towards the shed. Once inside, the brooms on their long, flexible arms dipped into the buckets. Dripping with water, they came out again and began to wash the walls. 

Soolin regained her senses first. "Quickly, get aboard before it leaves!" 

"Mingen," Dayna invited. 

He raised his hands pleadingly. "Really, I can't. Now Snarl's gone they need me here. You can't leave the harem without a master. It's not right!" 

Dayna pointed the spear at him. "We need you, Mingen. And , with a pierced leg you'll still be able to fly _Scorpio_. Do you want me to shatter your knee-cap?" 

He looked at her determined face and knew that she meant what she said. "All right, if you insist."  
  
Under the stern gaze of the women he climbed onto the craft and sat down, pouting. The women followed him quickly. 

Not a moment too soon. The vehicle rose into the air, seemingly impervious to the increased weight, and began its return journey. 

"Lie down," Dayna ordered. "Nobody must see us."

"Oh, we've been seen already," Mingen informed her blandly. "They've got the whole zoo covered by surveillance gear." 

Soolin's glare was cold enough to make the temperature drop. "Why didn't you tell us?" 

Avoiding her eyes, he mumbled: "I thought you knew. It's obvious, isn't it, that they want to keep an eye on us all the time." 

"Yes, it _is_ obvious," Dayna agreed bitterly. "We should have thought of it." 

"It's done," Soolin said curtly. "And this thing's still going somewhere. So they either did not see us or can't be bothered to do something about it." 

"Or they're waiting for us at our journey's end," Dayna guessed. She bent over the various objects attached to their means of transport. 

"Maybe there's something here we can use as a weapon."

* * *

Vila looked balefully at the gloriously lighted sky. "I told you we wouldn't make it before sunrise." 

"Just keep watching," admonished Avon. "We're now right over the place where that zoo should be." 

"If Orac's got his coordinates right." 

"There," Avon said. "A park surrounded by a large fence. That could be it. I'm going lower." 

Flying as low and slow as he dared, he began to circle over the complex. 

"There, people!" Vila exclaimed, spotting the naked children. 

"So we're at the right place, Avon commented. "But no trace of Dayna or Soolin." 

"There's something moving outside," Vila said. "To the left." 

Avon steered the craft in the indicated direction. "You're right. Some kind of flying box. Let's take a look." 

Vila's face fell. "Do you think that's safe?" 

"No," Avon conceded dryly. "But it could be them making their escape. Or do you think they would resign themselves meekly to their fate?" 

The flyer shot forward as he increased the speed.

* * *

"Something's coming our way," Soolin announced. 

Mingen glanced up in panic. "Where?" 

"There," Soolin indicated a speck high up in the air, to their right. 

"It's a bird," the pilot said hopefully. 

"It's a flyer," Soolin corrected him grimly. "And it is coming down, starting to circle. It is searching for something." 

"Us," Dayna guessed, frantically working on a small electrical part she'd discovered amongst the equipment. 

Soolin risked a quick look at Dayna's ministrations before bringing her attention back to the flyer. 

"What are you doing?" "Building an explosive. It's extremely crude, but it should work." 

"Here's your chance for a demonstration. It has spotted us; coming in very fast." 

"Oh no!" Mingen hid his head in his arms. 

Dayna sat up, the bomb in her hand. "When it's primed we've got three seconds, so the timing is essential!" 

Calmly watching the rapidly approaching flyer, she waited until it was about fifty metres away. At the right moment she connected the wires. "Down!" she shouted, and threw her projectile in a wide arc right into the ﬂight path of the vehicle. 


	7. Chapter 7

"Long blonde hair - that's Soolin," Vila exclaimed joyfully. 

"And Dayna," Avon said, recognising the dark, slender girl. "There's someone else with them. Lying down with his arms round his head." 

"Could be Tarrant. Look, he's lost his clothes!" Vila grinned. "Dayna's seen us. She's waving—" 

His observation ended in a shriek of protest as Avon suddenly banked the flyer to the right and up. A hot flash accompanied a deafening blow. The craft rocked as the shockwave hit it but Avon managed to keep it in the air. 

"What happened?" Vila asked. 

"Dayna threw an explosive at us. Luckily I could evade it." 

"Fast reaction you've got," Vila remarked with heartfelt admiration. He frowned. "Why did she do it?" 

"They must think we're the enemy. They wouldn't expect us here. We're supposed to be marooned on Xenon, remember." Avon produced a sardonic smile. "You'd better open your window and tell them we're the rescue team." 

Vila obeyed. Waving an arm out of the window, he called: "Dayna! Soolin! We're the good guys!" 

The girls heard and recognised him. Dayna's mouth fell open with sheer amazement. Soolin stared at him as if she could not believe her eyes. 

"How the hell did you get here?" she shouted while Avon brought the flyer alongside their craft. 

"We stole a pursuit ship - well, Avon did," Vila amended, giving praise where it was due. "We've found _Scorpio_. And Orac figured out your whereabouts." 

Equalling his speed to that of the box, Avon released the door locks on his flight panel. "Get in. We haven't got much time. It can't be long before those aliens rise." 

Soolin climbed aboard, then reached out to haul in a reluctant Mingen, who was being pushed forwards by Dayna. 

"Who is _he?_" enquired Avon icily. 

"A pilot," Dayna said, squeezing into the cramped space and sitting down beside Mingen. 

"He can fly _Scorpio_," Soolin explained while Avon relocked the door mechanism. 

"Name's Mingen, from Arella," the pilot informed them sullenly. "And I'm here under protest." 

"You're here on sufferance," Avon told him while setting a course for the north-west. 

"Have you found Tarrant?" Dayna asked eagerly, all her anger about him landing them in this mess forgotten. 

"No, but Orac's found a place where he could be. We're going there now." 

"We're running out of time, Avon," Vila warned. "It's a miracle we haven't met any aliens yet." 

"Maybe they like sleeping late," joked Dayna. 

"I wouldn't count on it! Look, Avon," Vila pleaded. "We've got a pilot. Let's go back to _Scorpio_ now we've still got a chance." 

"We can't leave Tarrant," Dayna said indignantly. 

"Why not?" Vila challenged her. "It's his fault we're here, risking our lives to find him. If he hadn't taken _Scorpio_ I'd be safely sitting at Xenon base at this very moment." 

"Sampling Dorian's wine?" Soolin queried sarcastically. 

"Well, the man had taste. Avon said so." Vila shuddered as the computer expert cast a particularly nasty glance his way. Hurriedly, he went back to his former subject: "Who says Tarrant wants to be rescued? If I were put in charge of a harem. . . ." 

"We'll let you take his place," Avon suggested, noticing with cynical satisfaction the look of horror that appeared on the thief's face. Decisively, he added: "We are going to look for Tarrant, Vila. With or without your consent!"

* * *

"There — aliens," Vila wailed. "I told you we were pushing our luck!" 

"Where are they coming from, so suddenly?" Dayna wondered. 

"From under the ground," Soolin said. "Look at those plates in the grass." 

As she said it, one of the many metal squares which littered the stretch of flat lawn slid open. From the dark hole a cone-shaped alien rose majestically, remaining perfectly still until the brush-like protuberances which served for limbs were level with the ground. 

"Must be using some kind of lift," Avon surmised. 

"They're so huge!" Vila exclaimed. 

The alien started to move, its feet/hands carrying it at a sedate pace towards one of the tall buildings which scattered the wooded landscape. 

"So they're living underground," Mingen observed. "I never knew that." 

"Probably started out as sub-ground dwellers," Avon commented. "When developing, they must have retained that trait." 

"Who cares where they live?" panicked Vila. "Avon, get this thing back to _Scorpio_!" 

"They can't have noticed us yet," Dayna remarked. "Or else they don't care. They're not taking any interest in this flyer at all." 

"More importantly," Soolin added, "they don't seem to be armed." 

Vila snorted. "They're aliens, remember! For all we know they can fire plasma bolts from their ears!" 

Avon was steering the craft upwards. "We don't know how well they can see. It's possible they think this is a contraption of their own, here on legitimate business. We're going as high as this thing can fly and hope for the best." 

Soon they had left the scene of habitation behind, flying over woodland parted by large rivers. After a while they came upon rows of dunes followed by a large lake or a small sea. Holding course, Avon steered his craft right across the water. 

Looking down at the waves caused by a gentle breeze, Soolin remarked: "If only this flyer wasn't so slow! It feels like we're crawling." 

"That's because we're overweight," Mingen explained. "These flyers are designed to carry a maximum of four passengers." Dayna turned round to give him a predatory smile. "That could be amended by chucking you out." 

"Unfortunately," Soolin sighed, "we can't afford that just now." 

"But don't try our patience," Dayna warned him. "We might forget. . . ." 

She stopped as the flyer suddenly began to glide downwards. "What's the matter?" Soolin shouted in the sudden silence. Realising the engine had stopped, Avon checked a dial. "We've run out of fuel!"


	8. Chapter 8

As time passed, Tarrant's ankle began to hurt more as it swelled up inside his boot. He hadn't thought of removing the footwear earlier and now it was too late. It would have to be cut from his leg but his knife was missing. Taken from his pocket along with all his other possessions while he was unconscious, he guessed. 

He checked again on Currah. The girl seemed all right, still unconscious but, judging by her strong pulse and even breathing, not in danger of her life. 

Aching caused by an incautious movement of the hurt leg brought Tarrant's attention painfully back to his own injury. At least the tight boot gave the ankle some support, he reflected, desperately trying to retain his natural optimism. He didn't know whether the ankle was broken or merely twisted, but it felt really bad. 

To make things worse he began to suffer from thirst. Could be the beginnings of a fever — no, he would not give in to despair! But it was a doomed battle. Before long Tarrant began calling out for help. With increasing desperation he shouted for someone - anyone - to come. The only answer he got was the hollow resonance of his voice reflected from the walls.

* * *

"Do something!" Dayna and Vila shouted in chorus while the flyer gracefully but inexorably glided towards the undulating mass of water. Mingen had put his hands over his eyes and was moaning softly. Soolin stared mesmerised at the dark waves beneath her. 

Smiling superiorly at their distress, Avon turned a switch on his dashboard. Immediately the engine resumed its humming and the craft gained height as Avon pulled up the steering column. 

Once he dared to believe that they were not going to crash, Vila queried: "What did you do?" 

Soolin smiled coldly. "He's changed over to solar power." 

"A standard facility in these flyers," Avon told them. "No more than an emergency outfit, originally, as these crafts were built for use on planets with scant sunshine. But here it will keep us in the air indefinitely." 

Dayna gave a sigh of relief. "I should have known you would not be so careless as to forget to check on the fuel level." 

"But you could have warned us," Vila added indignantly. 

"I should have," Avon conceded calmly. He wasn't going to admit that, concentrating on the flying, he had indeed forgotten to keep an eye on the fuel gauge. The sudden loss of power had taken him by surprise as much as the others. 

They flew on in silence until a row of yellow, sandy dunes heralded the end of the expanse of water. 

"Land again," Soolin announced with relief. 

"Not far now," Avon said. "According to Orac that zoo should be behind those hills."

Soon they were over the ridge of grassy hills and into a large valley. Knowing what to look for, Avon spotted the enclosure first. 

"That must be it, a large compound surrounded by a high fence." 

"And surrounded by a high amount of aliens, too," Vila observed, eyeing the strolling orange cones with a sinking feeling.

* * *

Soolin narrowed her eyes to blot out the sharp sunshine. "I think there are things flying above the place." 

"Looks like shoeboxes," Dayna remarked. 

Soolin nodded. "And those things sticking out in front look suspiciously like cameras." 

"Surveillance devices," guessed Avon. "Which means they're searching for something." 

"Or someone," Dayna corrected. "Tarrant must have escaped." 

Avon cast her a quick smile over his shoulder. "That seems to be the logical conclusion. In which case there's no point in searching for him here." 

"Unless he's hiding," Vila cut in. 

"I don't believe that," Dayna countered. "Tarrant's a man for action. If _we_ managed to get out, so will he." 

"Maybe even by the same method," Soolin suggested. "You'd expect some kind of automated flying cleaning box here too." 

Dayna nodded dryly. "The possibility for escape it presents would be hard to miss, even for Tarrant!" 

"It's our best bet," Avon agreed. "Question is, where would that contraption have taken him?"

  
"To the nearest building?" hazarded Soolin. 

Avon shrugged. "That seems as good a guess as any. Let's go and see."

Nearing the building, a towering metal construction about thirty metres square without any windows, they saw several aliens ambling through the parkland surrounding it. 

"Damn!" Avon said. "We can't land in their sight. Maybe at the back." He directed the flyer round the building. Seeing no aliens, he braked hard, making an almost vertical landing and bringing the craft to a halt under some high, blue-foliaged bushes. 

"This should keep the flyer from their sight." 

"Marvellous," Vila commented sarcastically. "The only thing which remotely looks like an entrance is at the other side, in full view of those walking wafers. How do you propose to get there?" 

"By foot. Being so far below their eye-level, I think there's a good chance we won't be noticed. Their downwards vision seems to be poorly developed. 

"Dayna, Soolin, you stay here," Avon instructed, opening the doors and drawing his reflection gun. "Keep an eye on our spare pilot. Come, Vila." 

"Me?" the thief protested. "Now wait a minute. . . ." 

Savagely, Avon pushed him out of the vehicle. Exiting after him, he hissed: "I need you to open the door. Now be quiet! Or do you want to draw their attention?" 

Being endowed with a sense for self preservation almost equal to Avon's, Vila followed close on his heels with as little noise as he could. When they rounded the corner and came into view of the aliens his heart began to beat in his ears, so loudly he feared it must be audible to all. 

The aliens gave no sign of being aware of the humans hurrying along far below their lofty gaze. Reaching the door-panel, Vila dropped onto his knees to tackle the lock, built low into the wall by the creatures whose hands were at foot level. 

"Don't waste time by looking for sophisticated traps," Avon whispered. "Their technology is like their shape: huge in size but simple in design." 

"True," Vila said. "Even you could have opened this lock!" 

"I don't doubt it," Avon retorted sharply; he never liked to be reminded of the fact that, despite his technical expertise, he lacked Vila's superior lockpicking skills. 

The door slid aside.

* * *

Tarrant had been alerted by the faint noises from outside. Blinded by the sudden blazing sunlight falling straight inside, he yelled: "Help! Please, help!" 

"Tarrant?" a familiar voice called. 

Blinking, _Scorpio's_ pilot stared at the man running to him, his features shadowed until he half turned to squat beside him. 

"Vila? I must be dreaming - a nightmare," Tarrant corrected himself when he became aware of another known face looming over him. "Avon, how did you get here?" 

"He stole a pursuit ship," Vila explained. 

"Initially," Avon informed the pilot coldly, "one of us did not deem it worth the risk to come searching for you." 

"I'm surprised you changed your mind," Tarrant retorted bitterly, under a misapprehension about the person meant. 

"So am I," Avon said with a faint smile. "Now let's get the hell out of here! On your feet, Tarrant!" 

The pilot tried and groaned. "I've twisted my ankle." 

"Then lean on Vila." His gun at the ready, Avon turned to go.

"Wait," Tarrant waved a hand at the prone figure at his side. "Currah - we can't leave her here." 

"We've got no time for heroics," Avon told him harshly. 

"Now listen!" Tarrant flared up. "She helped me to escape and I'm not leaving her behind! It's a question of loyalty, pure and simple — although not something you would understand," he added with bitter scorn. 

Avon gave him an inscrutable look, then glanced at the girl. Deciding that carrying her would not exceed his powers, he bent down to hoist her onto his shoulder. 

"You help Tarrant," he instructed Vila. 

"Why do I always get the lousy jobs?" the thief complained, while helping the tall, heavy man to his feet. 

"I'll explain that to you later," promised Avon with a smile so brief it was gone before the others had become aware of it. Supporting the girl's body with his left hand and holding his gun in the right, he took a step towards the door, then froze. An alien was blocking the exit.


	9. Chapter 9

His survival instinct taking over, Avon coolly and carefully aimed his gun and fired. Reflected by the metal floor, the bolt shot under the alien's shell where it exploded with a muffled bang. Whiffs of smoke emerged from the top and bottom. The alien wobbled once, then its limbs gave way slowly. Still upright, the shell sank to the ground, landing with a grinding sound. 

"Good shot," Tarrant said impressed. 

"Is it dead?" Vila wanted to know. 

"We'd better not wait to find out," Avon urged. 

Vila looked at the cone-shaped shell, which was effectively blocking the doorway. "How do we get past it?" 

"There's just enough room to squeeze through. I'll go first. Hold the girl, Vila." 

While Tarrant kept himself from falling by leaning on the wall, Vila took the unconscious Currah in his arms. Avon managed to squeeze his lean body through the gap between doorpost and alien with relative ease. The slim Currah, pushed his way by Vila, he could pull through effortlessly. After putting her down on the grass in the shadow of some bushes, he turned to help Tarrant. 

The pilot nearly fainted from the pain brought on by moving his ankle, but because he was tall and the gap became wider at the top, he slid through without too much difficulty. Avon helped him sit down beside the girl. 

Vila got stuck. 

"You should go on a diet," Avon said while tugging savagely at his arms. "I bet you're more than seventy kilos." 

"Ouch!" Vila cried. "You weigh less?" 

"Yes. Pull in your stomach and squeeze! Or do you want me to leave you behind?" 

That did the trick. Taking a deep breath, Vila pushed his body forwards, landing panting into Avon's arms. 

Extracting himself from his grip with a look of disgust, Avon bent to retrieve the girl, ordering Vila: "Help Tarrant up." 

"I can't go on," the wounded man stated flatly. Sweat was running from his brow and he was sickly pale. 

"It's not far," Vila reassured him. "Our flyer's at the back." 

Tarrant shook his head. "I really can't take another step without passing out! Not even with your support, Vila." He gave Avon a determined look. "You'll have to leave me here." 

The elder man met his gaze squarely. "You _want_ to play the hero, don't you?" 

Wincing at the scathing comment, Tarrant held his ground. "There is no other way. It's no use us all getting caught. Save yourselves, and Currah." 

Avon turned away from him, scanning the surroundings. No aliens were near, but in the distance more than a dozen were moving about. None seemed alarmed, which must mean that they were still undetected. 

Almost against his will, and certainly against his better judgement, Avon took a heroic decision. "I'll bring the flyer here. You stay with him, Vila!" 

Balancing the girl on his shoulder, he ran away before the thief could protest. 

"I can't believe this," Tarrant said. 

"Avon's seen the light," Vila told him with dry sarcasm. "He's going to take up Blake's fight, leading us to victory against the Federation." 

"Avon _leading_ us? I haven't seen— " Tarrant fell silent, staring aghast and ahead. 

Following his gaze, Vila moaned softly. About ten metres in front of them, a huge alien rose silently from the ground.

* * *

Avon kept as much in the shadow provided by the various bushes as he could. Although not a heavy weight, the girl hanging over his shoulder was a burden all the same. When Avon reached the flyer, he was panting hard. 

"Where's Vila?" Dayna asked, opening the door for him. 

"And who's she?" Soolin added. 

Avon pushed the unconscious form in with them. "Some girl Tarrant's picked up." 

"You've found him?" Dayna queried eagerly while Avon slid into the driver's seat. 

"Yes, but he's busted his ankle." Avon brought the ﬂyer into motion, keeping as low to the ground as he dared. "I left Vila with him. We're going to pick them up." 

"What about those aliens?" enquired Soolin coldly. 

Rounding the first corner, Avon gave her a quick appraising look over his shoulder. Taking the steering column in one hand, he held out his reflection gun to her. "This could be the time for you to prove your shooting skill." 

Quickly, he explained how the weapon worked. "Do you think you can hit them with it?" 

The sharp shooter eyed the gun lovingly. "Just wait and see." 

Avon rounded the last corner. Shocked, they saw the alien advance upon their companions. 

"Here's your chance," Dayna shouted. 

Soolin opened her window and aimed. The bolt disappeared into the grass. 


	10. Chapter 10

"What do you mean, reflection?" Soolin scorned. "It gets absorbed." 

"Darrm," Avon hissed. "It needs a hard surface. I hadn't thought of that!"

"Look at Vila!" Dayna exclaimed. 

The thief had drawn his gun. Holding it in both hands, he closed his eyes tightly before shooting point blank at the approaching giant. 

"The fool," Avon scathed. "That scale is impregnable." 

"But not shock-proof," commented Soolin. "Look, the thing is toppling over." 

The alien, hit high up its shell, had lost its footing. Slowly, almost gracefully, the giant fell to the ground, its limbs groping round in distress. 

"It can't get up!" Avon exclaimed. "It is totally helpless!" Bringing the flyer to a standstill beside Tarrant and Vila, he opened the doors. "Get in. Quick!" 

Vila, still standing in terrified shock, opened his eyes. 

Dayna jumped out to give him a hand with Tarrant. Seeing the others distracted, Mingen took his chance. Diving through the door, he ran away, straight at some ambling aliens. 

"He'll alert them," Soolin said. "Give me your other gun, Avon." 

"NO." "You can't fly this thing and shoot at them at the same time," she pointed out impatiently. "Besides, I'm a better shot." 

"You still have to prove that!" 

"I can't do it with this thing!" She threw the gun onto the empty front seat. 

After a moment's hesitation, Avon gave her his clip-gun. "You'll have to aim at the upper part of their shell," he cautioned her. 

"Don't worry, I'll lay them all down!" 

Vila and Dayna managed to get Tarrant onto the front seat. He gritted his teeth, crying out only once, when his injured ankle hit the side. 

"You two go in the back," Avon ordered briskly. "Vila, you sit in the middle. Put that girl on your lap. And give Dayna your gun." 

Vila obeyed, not entirely happy. For once fortune favoured him with the chance to hold a girl in his arms, and she had to be unconscious! It was not fair! 

Avon brought the flyer into motion. The vehicle rose reluctantly, refusing to gain more than two metres height. 

"Even without Mingen," Dayna observed, "we seem to be terribly overloaded."

"Not enough to crash," Avon assured her. "But the weight does slow us down." 

"Then drop that girl," Soolin suggested. 

"That will hardly make any difference," Avon replied coldly. 

"There goes Mingen," yelled Vila, catching sight of the naked figure. "He's running to those aliens! The idiot is going to warn them! Shoot him, Soolin!" 

"Too late," Avon said. "They've seen him — and us!" 

"Get away!" Vila cried. "Bring it up, Avon!" 

"It won't go any higher," he responded. "We're too heavy." 

"Then turn!" 

"Too late," Soolin hissed. "We're surrounded." 

"Oh no!" With sinking heart Vila counted more than twenty aliens purposefully advancing on them from all directions. 

"Dayna, Soolin, get them!" Avon shouted. "Hit them high!" 

While he steered the creeping flyer forwards, the women blasted away. Aliens fell left and right of them, clearing a path. Mingen had stopped and thrown himself down at the start of the shooting. Just when the flyer was passing, one of the aliens crashed down on top of him. His scream was cut off as the life was crushed out of him. Suddenly they were clear, seeing a landscape in front of them mercifully clear of aliens.

* * *

Their journey back to _Scorpio_ was a nightmare. Despite the open windows the temperature in the flyer rose rapidly in the blazing sun. Having nothing to drink, they began to be plagued by thirst very quickly. 

After having told each other their stories, they travelled on in unusual silence. The pain of his injury abating somewhat now he could keep his ankle still, Tarrant fell into an uneasy slumber. Vila tried to complain, but stopped when Dayna and Soolin, both hot and irritable, told him in no uncertain terms to shut up. His throat was too dry for talking, anyway. Avon doggedly concentrated on keeping the flyer in motion. It took all his willpower to resist the temptation to let himself slide into sleep.

Sometime during their journey Currah regained consciousness. Her head was aching so much that she could not find the energy to open her eyes. She felt the nearness of another person — yes, someone held her in his arms! That must be her father! He'd come to carry her away to freedom. . . . 

Her practical nature told her it had to be a dream. When she woke she would find herself still in the zoo, with Tarrant and their escape on the flying trolley no more than a passing illusion. But it was sweet to dream. Keeping her eyes tightly shut, Currah smiled and lay still, determined to get all possible joy out of it.

* * *

With relief Avon saw the museum complex looming in the distance. And not an alien in sight. It looked too good to be true. 

"We're nearly there." Dayna stretched as best as she could in the confined space. "Not a moment too soon!" 

"Yes," Soolin agreed, viciously pushing her elbow into the snoring Vila's side. "I couldn't take much more of this!" 

"Huh," the thief grumbled, doggedly sleeping on with the silent Currah in his arms. 

Dayna caught sight of their space craft. "There's _Scorpio_!" 

"Watch out for aliens," Soolin warned. 

"There don't seem to be any," Avon said. 

"They've probably done the sensible thing and gone underground again," Soolin suggested, casting a glance at the two suns high up in the sky. "This must be the hottest part of the day." 

"Don't rub it in," Dayna complained. "I could murder a drink." 

"We haven't got anything to drink aboard _Scorpio_," Soolin reminded her, adding bitterly: "Next time I'll make sure to supply the ship before we lift off, however short our flight is intended to be!" 

Bringing the flyer to a halt beside _Scorpio_, Avon asked her: "Do you have any medicine aboard? Painkillers?" 

"Yes, I'm sure we have." 

"Then get something for Tarrant," he told her, releasing the door lock mechanism. "We'll administer it before we move him. Try to find something that will ease the pain without  
making him drowsy. He'll need a clear mind to fly _Scorpio_." 

Soolin got out stiffly, entering _Scorpio_ through the open airlock. 

Dayna laid a hand on Currah's shoulder. Seeing the girl was conscious, she said: "Come, I'll help you out." 

When he felt her weight being taken from him, Vila reluctantly opened one eye. Becoming aware of a tingling in his sleeping limbs, he began to rub them, moaning softly. 

"Can you walk?" Dayna asked the girl when she had pulled her from the flyer. 

Only vaguely aware of her surroundings, Currah nodded, wincing at the pain in her head the movement brought on. "I think so." 

Then the fact that she was in talking company hit her. Looking from the dark-skinned girl to _Scorpio_, she asked: "Where am I? Who are you? What is this?" 

"This is our spacecraft. You seem to be getting a free flight with us. Unless you'd rather stay here?" 

"No!" She held on to Dayna with desperation. "I need to get away. I need to find my father!" 

"Then come on!" Dayna led her in, standing aside to let Soolin pass with the medicine box. 

Tarrant stirred and groaned when Soolin applied a painkiller pad. "It will numb the leg but not his mind," she assured Avon. 

"Good." He shook the pilot fairly gently by the shoulder. "Tarrant, wake up. We'll help you to board _Scorpio_. Take his other arm, Vila!" 

"But I've got pins and needles. . . ." 

"Ignore them!" 

With Avon's intimidating look upon him a particular nasty one — Vila decided to abandon his protest. Together they got Tarrant to his feet. 

"We'll have to find something to drink," Soolin said practically. "We're already suffering from dehydration and _Scorpio_ isn't the fastest of ships." 

Leaving it to Vila to support Tarrant to the airlock, Avon said: "I have thought of that. There's bottled water aboard the pursuit ship. We'll bring some over to you." 

Turning back to the flyer, he added sharply, stressing every word: "But we have to get out of here first!" 

Soolin came after him. "What are you doing?

"I'm going to jam the steering column and get this thing into the air - empty. It might fool the aliens, all the better if they go chasing it instead of _Scorpio_. The thing will crash eventually, but it may buy us time." 

"Only until they find _Scorpio_ gone," Soolin said sceptically. 

"True." Avon had found some spare wires, which he used to fasten the column. Setting the controls, he jumped from the flyer as it shot forwards and up. Without the weight of passengers, it gained a considerable speed. 

They ran through the airlock. 

_If we get out of here alive_, Soolin vowed silently while entering the flight deck, _I'm going to get Tarrant to teach me to ﬂy Scorpio. It's mine after all, a suitable bequest from Dorian_. 

_I'll make Tarrant teach me to ﬂy this tab_, Avon thought while locking and securing the outer door. _We can't afford to have to rely solely on him for it._

Reaching the flight deck, he saw the pilot sitting at the main seat, busying himself with the preflight checks. Tarrant looked, if not exactly well, at least capable of his task. 

Finding all five seats occupied - he'd forgotten about Tarrant's foundling, who sat staring at the control panel in front of her with a rapturous smile on her lovely face - Avon remained standing. Grabbing the back of Tarrant's seat for support, he said: "The hatches are locked and sealed. Get us out, Tarrant!"

* * *

As soon as the process of lift off had been completed, Avon activated Orac. "Is our pursuit ship still in orbit?" 

"It is," the computer confirmed.

Avon moved to the teleport bay. "Come, Vila."

"Why me?" the thief began automatically before it dawned on him that the other ship was better, faster and safer. With sham reluctance he rose from his seat. "All right, if you insist." 

"Orac," Avon instructed. "Send us over." Having materialised, Avon and Vila hurried to the pantry where both drained three glasses of fruit juice. Then Avon began to fill a large metal box with containers of water. Adding some fruit juices and bottles of vitamin solution, he said: "You can deliver this." 

"Wait a minute," Vila protested, while Avon brought his arm with the teleport bracelet up to give the command. "I want to stay here with you, Avon." 

The other gave him a sceptical smile. "You are craving my pleasant company?" 

"No," Vila said bluntly. "But I like this ship. And I feel safe with you. Tarrant's always nasty to me when you're not there." 

"Tarrant will be busy flying _Scorpio_. And any spare time will be dedicated to our young and pretty guest, I'd say. Besides, when that painkiller wears off he'll be in no shape to threaten anyone." 

"He'll take it out on me," Vila predicted, adding miserably: "Everyone does." 

That was true. Avon relented. "All right. It's safer to have two around, anyway." He activated the communicator on his bracelet. "Orac, teleport Vila to _Scorpio_. Then send him back here when he's ready."

* * *

"That girl's over the moon," Vila reported ten minutes later. "She's marching all over the flight deck, sticking her nose into every piece of equipment and wanting to know what all the switches and controls are for." 

"She's feeling better, then," deduced Avon. "Evidently. She'd be an asset, Avon, very clever and so. Besides, another female would balance out the group." 

"I doubt whether she'd be your type, Vila. Don't you always say you dislike clever women?" 

"I do, usually, but not— " 

"When they are young and beautiful." Avon's smile showed his amusement. For the first time since that fatal trip to Terminal, he seemed to Vila to be reasonably relaxed. 

Checking the flight instruments and course indicator again, Avon told him: "I've activated the autopilot; course for Xenon. We're ahead of _Scorpio_, I've adjusted our speed to keep us within teleport range." 

He rose from his seat. "Since you've rested in the flyer, you can take watch now. I'm going to get some sleep, in the captain's cabin. Warn me at the first sign of trouble. And stay awake!" 

Moving past the thief, Avon brought his face level with the other's. "If I come back and find you asleep, I won't hesitate to shove you out of the airlock!"

* * *

On board _Scorpio_ time dragged slowly. They had quenched their thirst. Leaving the flying to Slave, Tarrant leaned tiredly back in his seat, vaguely worried about the level of medical facilities at their base. He hoped a simple treatment would suffice to sort out his ankle; if it needed specialist surgery he was in trouble. 

The women were watching the monitor which showed the planet, now filling no more than half the screen. Currah's brown eyes shone with excitement. She still had difficulty in believing her dream about escaping from Peacock One was being realised at that very moment. 

Repeatedly she told the others the story of her life, extolling about her absent father's virtues. Dayna and Soolin exchanged exasperated looks. 

Suddenly the girl staggered, falling against Dayna. "Sorry," she said. "I feel a bit dizzy." 

"You've had a nasty knock on the head," Tarrant reminded her. 

Leading Currah to the seat she'd occupied earlier, Dayna advised: "You'd better sit down." 

"Thank you." Currah smiled at Dayna and seemed to fall asleep the moment the dark girl released her. 

Watching the scene, Soolin observed: "She looks exhausted." 

"Probably concussed," Dayna remarked. "

Or this could be the onset of the Terran Ague," Tarrant suggested. 

"The what?" Dayna asked. 

"Also known as the three-day sweats," Soolin explained. "A metabolic reaction to space travel from which we all suffer on our first space flight. You must have had it too, Dayna." 

"I was a baby when my father took me away from Earth; too young to remember." 

"Currah will be all right," Tarrant assured her. "It is only a mild infection." 

"We'll have to let her sweat it out." Soolin walked over to Tarrant. "How long before we reach Xenon?" 

"Seventeen hours. You'd better all get some sleep." 

Dayna sighed, eyeing her seat without enthusiasm. "At least on _Liberator_ we had cabins." 

"We've got some recliners here," Soolin said, opening a hatch to reveal a large storage compartment from which she took out a folded deckchair. 

Suddenly _Scorpio_ rocked violently, throwing Dayna and Soolin to the floor. 

"What's that?" Dayna asked, picking herself up. "A blastwave," Tarrant said. "It has blown us off course. Compensate, Slave!" 

"At once, sir. I am sorry not to have foreseen this— " 

Tarrant was in no mood for lengthy excuses. "Do it and shut up!" 

Dayna turned to Soolin, who was untangling herself from the half-unfolded chair. "Are you all right?" 

"Yes. But what caused that blastwave, Tarrant?" 

"Must have been an explosion - a large one!"

"Avon's ship?" Dayna asked, horrified. 


	11. Chapter 11

Soolin ran to a monitor console and flicked a switch. "No, it's still there." She pointed to a tiny speck in a corner of the screen. 

"Slave," Tarrant said, "What caused the blastwave?" 

"I am sorry, sir. It is beyond my—" 

"Forget it!" Dayna's eye fell on Orac, which had been sitting unnoticed in a corner. She saw the key was in its slot. 

"Orac, do you know what caused the blastwave?" 

"Of course I know." The machine sounded positively furious. "It was caused by the traction beam." 

"But Avon told us he disabled it," Soolin protested. 

"That is what he should have done," the computer stated. "Instead he seems to have reversed it. When the beam was activated, the energy was directed deep into the planet, causing a huge explosion in its core." 

Soolin adjusted the monitor. "Orac must be right. Look at that giant dust cloud! And all those rocks and debris." 

"The planet is destroyed," Orac declared, its lights ﬂashing indignantly. "A criminal act, to wipe out a civilisation of such a standard!"

* * *

Avon was thrown off his bunk by the blastwave. Immediately wide awake, he was up and running to the flight deck before the ship had stopped rocking. 

"What happened?" 

Vila, who had just discovered and unlocked the captain's secret booze-storage compartment when the blast struck, sat on the floor amidst the spilled flasks. "I don't know." 

Avon rushed over to the control panel, quickly checking various indicators. "Nothing seems damaged." 

"What happened?" Vila echoed, trying to get up with dignity. 

"An explosion, obviously."

"_Scorpio!_" Vila exclaimed in horror. 

Avon activated a screen. "No, it is still there." He adjusted the range. "But Peacock One isn't." 

Vila joined him. "That's right," he said. "Only a giant dust cloud and a lot of rocks floating about." 

"They must have activated the traction beam," Avon surmised. 

"You mean your tampering caused that?" 

"It seems a logical supposition. I reversed the energy flow. Instead of into space, the beam was directed right down to the planet's core. I had not foreseen it would destroy it, though." 

"Well, I can't say I'm sorry," Vila said callously. "It'll teach them not to abduct people." 

"The ultimate lesson," Avon affirmed dryly, suppressing any feeling of guilt. Vila was right, they should not have taken _Scorpio_. 

He rubbed the arm on which he'd fallen. It was hurting, although not enough to indicate more than a bruise. Checking his teleport bracelet, he could see no damage. 

"Do you want to go back to sleep?" Vila asked hopefully. 

Avon let his gaze rest on the ﬂasks on the floor. Most were broken, their contents emitting a heady aroma. Two, who'd landed on Vila, were still intact. 

"I might as well." He picked up the ﬂasks. "But I feel in duty bound to protect you from temptation." 

"Now, that's not FAIR. . . ." 

Smiling almost indulgently — Vila's reactions were so predictable! — Avon handed over one flask. It needed more than just one bottleful to get Vila drunk nowadays. 

With the other's thanks ringing in his ears, Avon went back to the captain's cabin.

* * *

Three and a half hours later Avon was woken by an agitated Vila. "There's a message coming in." 

Avon sat up, at once alert. "From_ Scorpio?_" 

"No." Vila looked scared. "From a Federation command ship. They want to know why we've gone off course and why we're not answering them." 

Avon felt a pang of disappointment. "So we've been detected. A pity."

"They say they'll blast us if we don't give a damn good reason for our actions," Vila told him. 

Avon was already running to the flight deck. A voice was calling impatiently over the open channel. Avon pressed the transmit button. 

"This is Federation pursuit ship. . ." He read the registration number from the console in front of him. "What's the trouble?" 

"The trouble?" came the indignant reply. "YOU are the trouble, Captain Petur! You're way off course. And you should have reported in hours ago." 

Avon decided to try and bluff it out: "I'm right on course, following specific orders from Space Command. And I was instructed to keep radio silence until arrival." 

"Arrival where?" "Obviously I can't tell you that. I'm on a secret mission, ordered by the Supreme Commander personally." 

Another voice sounded from the receiver. "Captain Petur, this is Space Commander Arch. What are you playing at? You fall under _my_ command and I've had no word from the Supreme Commander about a secret mission." 

"With respect, sir," Avon replied less than humbly. "In that case he must have decided that there was no need for you to know about it." 

"Put your communicator on visual," the Space Commander ordered. "Show your face." 

"Sorry, sir. It has developed a malfunction." 

"You are not Captain Petur," Arch stated. "Who are you? What happened to the captain?" 

"Of course I'm Petur. . . ." But Avon knew it was useless. 

Arch's next words confirmed that: "You've got three minutes to produce Petur and show us he's unharmed. If you do not obey I will assume he's dead and open fire on you. Three minutes!" 

Avon's resourceful mind was groping for a solution. It could find none. Bringing his fist down on the button in frustration, he broke the connection. 

"Destroy them!" Vila urged. 

Avon shook his head. "I'm not familiar with the weapons' system. And there's no time to figure out how it works." 

"What then?" 

"Say goodbye to this ship. Avon pressed his bracelet communicator. "Orac, bring us back." 

Vila shrugged philosophically. "Oh well, we've still got good old _Scorpio_." 

"It's not responding." Avon's voice was tense when he tried again: "Orac, teleport! Tarrant, Dayna, Soolin! _Scorpio,_ teleport now!" 

Nothing happened. 


	12. Chapter 12

"Oh no," wailed Vila, close to panic. "How much time's left?" 

Avon gave him a scathing stare. "You want to count the seconds?" 

Feeling the need to hold tightly onto something, Vila grabbed his companion's hand. 

Avon's first reﬂex was to tear himself free from Vila's grip, but what was the point? Smiling at the utmost irony of dying while holding hands with a Delta grade petty thief, he looked down at the offensive limb, idly taking in Vila's teleport bracelet. Suddenly the thought hit him that the communicator of his own could be damaged by his fall. . . . 

Pushing the button on Vila's bracelet, Avon shouted: "Teleport! Orac, _Scorpio_, teleport NOW!" 

They dematerialised just as their stolen ship disintegrated.

* * *

"That was close," Vila breathed while stepping out of _Scorpio's_ teleport bay. 

Avon gave him an almost affectionate smile. "You saved our lives, Vila." 

"I did?" The thief looked nonplussed. "How?" 

Feeling light-headed by their narrow escape from death, Avon patted Vila's hand. "Work it out."  
  
Vila eyed him distrustfully, then decided that Avon was entitled to his joke. After all, he'd got them out, as usual. His muscles suddenly giving way, Vila dropped into the last empty seat. 

After telling the others about the destruction of his stolen ship, Avon walked over to the seat occupied by Currah. "What's the matter with our guest?" 

"The Terran Ague, presumably," Tarrant told him. "Don't wake her up," Soolin warned. "I'm fed up with her prattle!" 

"It's more than we can stand," Dayna fell in. 

"Now that's unfair. . . ." Tarrant protested. 

Soolin looked at Avon. "We are _not_ going to let her stay." 

"Not in _my_ seat," he replied. "I see you've got a kind of deck chair. Unfold it and transfer her to it!" 

Being used to Avon's gruff commands, Dayna obediently bent over the girl. Taking her hand, she exclaimed: "She's hot - burning with fever!" 

Avon touched Currah's forehead. Then he gently shook her by the shoulder. Getting no reaction, he declared: "This can't be the Ague. She's unconscious." 

Tarrant went to stand but, remembering his injured ankle, thought better of it. "Then her head must be wounded worse than it seemed." 

"She complained about feeling dizzy," Dayna reminded them." 

"Bring Orac," Avon said to no-one in particular. 

When Dayna had carried the computer over, Avon extracted two sensors, fastened to long thin wires, from inside the machine. Placing the sensors on Currah's head, he instructed: "Diagnose!" 

After some seconds, Orac informed them: "This person is suffering from a violent reaction in her metabolism."

"You mean the Sweats," Vila surmised. 

"I do _not_ mean the Terran Ague," the machine replied pedantically. "The nucleic structure of this body indicates that it has already gone through the Ague." 

"But she hasn't been in space before," Tarrant exclaimed. 

"Yes, she has - in her mother's womb," Soolin pointed out. 

"Then what's ailing her now?" asked Vila. 

"A unique process." 

"Well, don't keep us in suspense," Avon snarled when the machine seemed not inclined to continue. 

"Peacock One _had_" - Orac stressed the word - "a unique component in its atmosphere, which was being absorbed by all creatures. In humans it changes the chemistry of the body. Sudden withdrawal causes an acceleration of body-cell activity, causing high fever and, ultimately, death." 

"You mean the body burns itself out," Avon stated. 

"That is a simple way of putting it," the computer conceded disdainfully. 

On the brink of panic, Vila looked from Orac to Currah to Avon. "We've been to the planet. Does it mean we've all picked up that bug?" 

"No. You have not been there long enough to be affected." 

Vila relaxed. "That's a relief!" 

"But Currah _is_ affected - badly," Dayna said, forgetting her former irritation about the girl's incessant talking. 

Removing the sensors and putting them back inside the computer, Avon instructed: "Recommend treatment!" 

Orac's reply was uncharacteristically brief: "There is no cure." 

They all stared at the computer, taking in the message. 

It was Dayna who broke the shocked silence: "We can't let her die!" 

"You've always claimed you're the cleverest computer in the galaxy," Vila challenged the machine. "Think of something!" 

"There is no cure," Orac repeated patiently. "And even if there was, it would be too late. The patient is dying. Very soon there will be a moment of lucidity, followed by death." 

"That can't be true!" Doggedly, Dayna shook her head. "There must be SOMETHING we can do!" 

"Make her comfortable," Soolin practically, moving to unfold the recliner. 

"Yes." Avon's voice held no emotion but it was an indication of his feelings that, instead of delegating the task, he picked up the girl to carry her over personally. 

Unwilling to yield to the inevitable, Tarrant raised a hand: "Now wait, Avon. . . ." 

Currah opened her eyes. "Father," she exclaimed,her voice hoarse from the fever. 

Nearly dropping the girl with embarrassment, Avon hurried to lower her onto the recliner. She clung to him with desperation. "Father!" 

Trying to extract himself from her grip, he began: "I am definitely NOT— " 

"Avon!" Soolin warned, standing beside him. 

"She's _dying_!" hissed Dayna, appearing at his other side. 

"Don't spoil her dream," Soolin urged. 

Furiously, Dayna added: "Can't you just for once in your life bring yourself to show some consideration?" 

After giving her a hard stare, Avon yielded, kneeling down at the girl's side. Not able to bring himself to speak, he took her hand with surprising gentleness. 

Staring at him in wonderment, Currah smiled. "You came. I always knew you would..." Her eyes fell closed, her breathing became shallow, yet she held on to him as to a lifeline. 

Less than ten minutes later, her breathing stopped. Avon let go of her slack hand. Rising, he began to massage his stiff knees. 

"Poor girl," Tarrant said, frustrated. "She didn't have a chance!" 

"Life's like that," Avon snapped, more affected by her death than he was willing to show. "Grow up, Tarrant!" 

"Currah never will, now," Dayna observed sadly. 

"She died happy," Soolin reminded her. 

"Much good that did her!" Vila remarked with feeling. 

"She would have died anyway," Avon said. 

"Yes," Dayna agreed. Witnessing the death scene had for a moment made her forget about the destruction of Peacock One. "In that explosion, along with every one else on the planet." 

"Indeed!" Orac joined the conversation. "It is a shame. A civilisation of such unprecedented profound cerebral magnitude— " 

The machine fell silent as Avon savagely removed the key. 

"Good," approved Vila. "That arrogant heap of circuits! Why can't it speak Terran?" 

"It _was_ speaking Terran," Avon told him, seizing the chance to vent his feelings on his favourite target. "Don't blame it for your ignorance!"

"Well, I never had the chance for education, did I?" Vila retorted. "If I'd been born a first grade Alpha, and gone to Special Academy like you, Kerr Avon. . . ." 

Blocking out the rest of the slanging, Tarrant sat up. Currah - Kerra. . . . Was it possible? Could she have been _Avon's_ child? 

Tarrant vividly remembered his first impression, when he'd looked into her eyes and thought he saw Avons'. But surely, the girl could be no older than fifteen, too young to be fathered by Avon in his student days? 

Avon was as secretive about his age as about all aspects of his personal life, but Tarrant estimated him as being somewhere in his forties. He could be younger than he looked, though. The kind of life he'd lead, as a fugitive from justice and unwilling freedom fighter, might well have caused premature aging. 

Moreover, Special Academy was an institution for advanced education, a place for the best of the Alphas to specialise themselves further after finishing their university studies. Which could mean that Avon had already been in his mid-twenties when he attended. In that case, it was possible. . . . 

And the girl had reacted to the name, when Tarrant had called out to Avon. Surely that could have been no coincidence? But wait, she'd have heard the name mentioned sooner. Or not? 

Tarrant tried to think back. He had not mentioned Avon by name to her, just talked about a first grade Alpha. And later in the ﬂyer the others, when talking to Avon, had not used his name either. Finally, Tarrant could not recall the name being mentioned here on _Scorpio_. Avon had been on the pursuit ship for most of the time, anyway. 

So, Avon's past had caught up with him, in the most unlikely circumstances, halfway through the galaxy. 

He had done the right thing, though, taking the girl with him and refusing to ditch her from the flyer when Soolin suggested that. In fact, Kerr Avon had done what he always ridiculed others for: risking his life to help a stranger without knowing that he was rescuing his own daughter. 

It was the ultimate irony; a particularly perverse trick of fate. Tarrant opened his mouth but changed his mind before letting out the secret. For the first time in his life he stopped to think before lunging headlong into action. 

What purpose would it serve to confront Avon with a child he evidently had never known about? The girl was dead, and Avon had enough on his plate with Cally's demise and the loss of _Liberator_. 

Besides, this was all conjecture. The girl had been very ill — she could easily have been mistaken, thinking she heard Tarrant say her father's name, especially if that name did sound like Avons'. Or her mother could have lied to her. Suppose her mother's lover had been a simple Delta grade like her - that she had made up the story about a student making her pregnant to protect him, knowing that her parents would never dare to confront a first grade Alpha? 

Except for those eyes there was little resemblance in looks between Currah and Avon. And lots of people had brown eyes. Vilas', for example, were exactly the same colour as Avons'. Vila was a Delta grade, suppose he'd been the mother's secret lover. . . ? 

Realising he was sinking into the realms of fantasy, Tarrant resolutely forced his attention back to the reality of the flight deck. 

Soolin had produced a kind of sheet which, with Dayna's help, she was draping over the slender body on the recliner. 

Avon and Vila were still cordially throwing insults at each other. 

"I could have been a space captain," the thief declared, embarking on his favourite topic. 

Avon eyed him with the utmost scepticism. "That's just as inconceivable, Vila, as me being a father!"

The thief glared at him. Avon retaliated with a superior, mocking smile. 

Tiredly closing his eyes, Tarrant leaned back in his seat. Normally the endless bickering irritated him, yet now it felt strangely reassuring, an indication that things were back to normal. 

Dayna had been right, he reflected with uncharacteristic humbleness. They'd needed Avon to get them out of the mess. And he _had_ come, against all odds. Once in possession of that pursuit ship, Avon had lost the need to get _Scorpio_ back. With Vila at his side he could have embarked on a life of easy crime. 

Yet Avon had done the right thing, risked his own life to get his companions out of trouble. Did that mean that he cared for them after all? Had Tarrant been misjudging him? Was that cold exterior just a facade? Could Avon be such a master at hiding his feelings that he'd managed to fool them all along? 

No, surely he must have had a selfish motive. He always did. But Tarrant could not think of one. Maybe, he concluded at last, it had been purely and simply a question of loyalty.


End file.
